The Drow and the Bhaalspawn
by Nastrandir
Summary: Upon leaving the Underdark, Kera makes the choice to bring an exiled drow commander with her as she seeks out her soul.
1. The Surface

_The style and tone of this particular story are rather different to anything I've written before. It should be mentioned now that my take on Solaufein has nothing to do with Weimer's mod; this is instead my perception of the character. As usual, most things in the story do not belong to me; I am merely borrowing them. As always, reviews are most welcome. _

_**Chapter One – The Surface**_

Under her feet, the dark rock was slippery, damp with the rain she could taste on the air. Torches flared, bright against the high, spanning arches of trees. She could hear the elven soldiers shouting orders in their strange, lilting language. Every breath she dragged into aching lungs seemed heavy with the cool scents of the night.

"Kera." Jaheira caught her elbow, steadied her when her heel skidded. "Slowly."

She complied, even though every nerve in her screamed at her to bolt until she felt grass beneath her boots and the curving maw of the caves that had opened up into the elven ruins became some terrible dark patch in her memories.

"Wait." The elven scout darted ahead of her. Lean and lithe, he turned, his pale hair turned livid in the torchlight. "Elhan would see you, traveler."

_Elhan_. She had heard that name before, when the ragged, exhausted dozen soldiers had faced them in the ruined chambers below the earth.

_"You will come with us. You have nothing to fear, if what you say is true."_

And she had been given little choice, since she was as wrung through as they were, and between them they carried twelve swords. Unwillingly, she had turned over her own weapons, as had her companions, and each jolting step against the smooth rock had taken them towards a surface she had not seen for far too long.

She stopped, head down and breathing hard. Almost running, the elves had pushed out of the ruins quickly, leaving dead drow and fallen friends behind, their blood mingled on the ancient stone. Between her feet, she noticed crushed grass, slick with rain.

"You. Human." The same scout stepped forward, one hand wrapped around his bow. "Elhan will see you."

"And my companions?"

"They will remain here," he said.

"No." Kera lifted her head, brushed dark hair out of her eyes. "They come with me."

The elf's mouth twisted. "And the drow?"

_The drow_.

The drow commander who had sneered at her when she stumbled over her words and tried to apologise for being late. The drow commander who had spun and fought with unerring, startling grace in the arena.

The drow commander she had allowed into her confidence, and to whom she had offered a way out, a way out of his city and up to the surface.

"And the drow," she said, somehow keeping her voice even.

The elf's eyebrows arched, but he made no comment. He turned, a sharp snapping movement, and beckoned them on, past tents and a campfire and trestle tables laid out against the curling grass, lined with arrows. Past the coppery play of the last fire, she saw a tall elf in gleaming armour. Beneath the gold curves of his helmet, loose strands of fair hair escaped. His face was all imperious angles, and the gaze he turned on her was cold and implacable.

Before he could speak, she stepped past the circle of the firelight, and said, "Elhan?"

"Yes." His dark eyes flitted from her to Jaheira, and across to her other companions. "I understand you were recently in the Underdark."

"Yes."

He nodded slowly. "The drow," he said in the same tone. "I am to understand that he came with you from Ust Natha, yes?"

"Yes."

"And that my people let him pass with you."

Anger flared, somewhere deep inside her, behind the walls of cold exhaustion. "At my request," she said.

"Why?"

"Because I _asked_ them to."

"And why would you do that?"

She clenched her fingers hard enough that her nails dug into her palms. "That is my business."

"No. You bring a drow into my camp, at a time when they attack the surface and attack my city. I will have the reason, traveler."

_Because he helped us_, she wanted to snarl back at him. _Because he had nowhere else to go. Because I was asked to murder him and chose not to. _

"He is no follower of Lolth," she said eventually.

"Indeed. And have you seen evidence of this, or has he simply spoken of it?"

"I have seen it," Kera snapped, aware that her voice was cracking. "Is that enough?"

"Since I know you little better than your drow friend, no." Elhan laid one hand on his sword hilt. "Will you vouch for his behaviour?"

"What does that mean?"

"That means his hands and ankles will be tied if you give me no guarantee of his conduct."

She drew in a long, steadying breath. Under her skin, she could feel her blood pulsing slowly and angrily. Some insidious, terrible thought sank through her mind, and she wondered how quickly she could have this elf on his back, his arrogant throat torn open. She glanced across from Jaheira to where the drow commander stood, his poise coiled and his hands hanging loose at his belt. His shoulders were rigid, and she could see tiny beads of sweat on the sharp, ebony angles of his face. When the wind keened, and dragged the torches into rippling orange plumes, his eyes narrowed, but he did not turn away.

"I give you my word," she ground out. "I'm sure he'll behave."

"Very well." Elhan gestured to his guards, standing silently behind him. "I should warn you, however, if he does not, my guards will restrain him, and not gently."

_Like they did in the ruins?_ She wanted to say it, spit the words at him, enough that she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself silent. She recalled how spells had flashed against the crumbling arches, and Imoen had called out a warning.

"_Drow!" The blond, wide-eyed elf reared back, swords in both hands. "Forward!"_

_ "No!" _

_Another spell bloomed, white light whipping out from Imoen's fingers, and Kera prayed it would show the elves that their ambushers were not of the Underdark. _

"_No," she shouted. "Don't! He's with us." _

_But the elf crashed full-force into the drow, and his twisting momentum tore them both around. The drow lashed back at him, landed a hefty blow to the inside of the elf's leg. Another snake-fast strike snapped the elf's swords from his hands, and the drow kicked his feet out. He spun the elf onto the ground, one forearm wedged under his throat. _

"_Let him go, stranger." Another elf stepped forward, one side of his face thick with blood. "And explain why you are here."_

_For a long, terse moment, she glared over the point of her sword at him. Ten soldiers flanked him, all of them coiled and waiting. Kera weighed her chances, decided that, even numbers aside, they had the disadvantage. A long slice beneath her ribs made breathing awkward, and Imoen's spells were nearly spent, and the ugly gash along Haer'Dalis' calf muscle had spoiled his grace. _

"_Solaufein," Kera ordered. "Let him up."_

_The drow hesitated. "I do not think…"_

"_Let him up," she repeated wearily. "We don't have a choice."_

_He nodded and glided away from the elf. Another smooth motion sheathed his sword, and Kera saw the elf uncoil behind him. "No, wait!"_

_The elf crashed into him, snaked one arm around his neck and yanked. When the drow's hands flew up, he kicked the back of his knees, ruining his balance and toppling him. With one hand vised in the drow's white hair and his other arm locked around his neck, the elf said, "Now. Who are you and why do you have a drow with you?"_

"Now." Elhan clasped his hands together. "There are things we must discuss, traveler. Would you prefer this to happen in my tent, or out here?"

"You're giving me a choice?" Kera grinned, wolfishly. "Out here."

"As you wish it." Something flickered across the elf's beautiful, pale face, something old and tired. "I am willing to help you, stranger. I am willing to give you food and shelter for at least tonight. However, I must confess I find it very odd that just when the temple here is attacked, _you_ emerge out of the Underdark, bringing with you a drow guide. How is it you escaped Ust Natha, and how is it you were there to begin with? I cannot imagine you were sold to the slave pens."

"No. We weren't." She wondered if she should explain about the shipwreck, and the underwater city, and the sahuagin prophecy, and almost immediately decided against it. "We came to Ust Natha seeking a man called Irenicus."

Elhan stiffened. "This Irenicus…what do you know of him?"

"I know he owes me a debt of pain for what he has done to me," she said, quietly.

He rubbed one hand across his eyes, and sighed. "I must ask that we continue this inside my tent, with my wizards present."

"Wizards?" She shook her head, suspicious. "Why?"

"I must know what you know, and I must know that you tell me the truth. I am sorry," the elf said heavily. "Forgive me, but it is the only way I can help you."

"And my friends?"

"Will remain out here under guard."

Kera tipped her head back, felt the soft, misting drizzle touch her eyelids, her hair. "Solaufein comes with me."

"The drow? Why?"

"Forgive me," she replied, deliberately mirroring his tone. "But I would prefer all my companions breathing, and quite frankly I don't trust your guards not to let an accident or two slip past them."

"As you wish it." Elhan motioned, and the guards at the tent rolled the curtains back, knotted the ropes.

Somewhere close by, an owl called, the sound unusual and haunting. Kera exchanged a quick look with the drow, saw that his face was closed off and bleak, and she could not quite blame him. She followed Elhan into the cool gloom of the tent, waited while he lit the oil lamps. Marigold light fluttered over the rich scarlet and gold patterns woven into the cloth walls.

Elhan paused beside a small table, tugged his helmet off. "Wine?"

"Hospitality now?" Kera shook her head. "I'd prefer to wait until after the interrogation."

"Not an interrogation," he corrected. "An understanding."

"Of what? Whether or not I'm stupid enough to lie to mages?"

"No." Fury flashed across Elhan's face, but he turned away, motioned in the three robed elves who stood just past the flaps. They moved soundlessly, gliding over the soft rugs, and trained piercing, pale eyes on her. "Tell me what you know of Irenicus," Elhan said.

"I know he struck some bargain with Matron Mother Ardulace of Ust Natha," she answered. "The bargain involved the stealing of a silver dragon's eggs to keep her prisoner in her lair."

"Why?"

Her gaze flicked to the wizards, to their blank, listening faces. "So the drow could attack your temple, and by extension, your city, I suppose."

"Truth," a wizard murmured. "She knows much."

"Perhaps." Elhan's hands whitened around his belt. "What is your business with Irenicus?"

"_Business?_" The word escaped her throat in a snarled whisper. "I have no business with him except his death."

"Explain," Elhan said coldly. "Explain, and truthfully, traveler."

_Explain the hollow knot of emptiness that clung somewhere in her, the space where her soul had been? Explain the lightning-bolt anger that took her and ruled her whenever she thought of him or dreamed of him? Explain how sometimes her own voice seemed far away and thin? _

"He has committed a great offense against myself and my sister," she heard herself say, every syllable granite-hard. "I would see him pay for that with his life. Since he appears to have offended you in some similar manner, it would seem our goals might be the same."

"Perhaps," he allowed. "Am I to understand you followed him through the Underdark and to Ust Natha?"

"_Yes_, I followed him, and _yes_, he escaped me, and I will find him, with or without your help." Her voice wavered, and she flinched when Solaufein touched her arm. A simple brush of his fingers, but it jolted her, and the anger subsided. "Is that enough? Will you call off your little sages?"

"Irenicus has wronged us indeed." Elhan sat, cross-legged and elegant, and motioned for them to join him.

Kera hesitated for a brief instant, before giving in and sinking down onto the rugs. "How?"

"He has laid siege to our city. To our Suldenessellar." Anger roughened the elf's voice. "He and some hundreds of drow, and other terrible things. He would burn the trees and tear down every stone."

"To what end?"

Elhan's eyes flickered. "Destruction. Destruction and madness."

_He's lying_, she thought, but could not pinpoint why. _Why would Irenicus care so much for this elven city, and why would this elf lie about it? _She glanced sidelong at Solaufein, saw how one side of his mouth had curled up. _He knows, too_, she realised. _He can see the elf's lying. _"So why aren't you there, now, trying to save your city?"

"Because I can't," Elhan snapped, the words coming out raw and harsh. "He has closed the trees behind him, and I _cannot_ enter."

"How is that possible?"

While she sat, part of her vaguely enjoying the plush feel of the rugs beneath her, he spoke of something called the Rhynn Lanthorn, some elven artifact that opened the way through the forest, and to Suldenessellar. Something that, if stolen, could leave the city isolated and lost.

_There_, the whispering, coiled anger in her prompted. To find the Lanthorn would be to open a way into the elven city, and into Irenicus' presence. She could find him, and carve her revenge out of his skin, and take as much time doing it as she pleased.

She found herself nodding almost before Elhan even asked properly.

"Yes," Kera said. "You need to stay here with your soldiers, so you need someone to find your Lanthorn."

"Yes," he answered, haltingly. "I confess, I am not sure where you could even begin."

"Bodhi," she cut across him. "Bodhi would have been trusted with it, and I imagine she's gone scuttling back to Athkatla with it."

Elhan exhaled. "Then, if you are in agreement, I will have food and drink brought for your companions, and on the morrow, you may begin your journey."

_That quickly? No questions, no explanations? Just _what_ is he hiding? _Kera nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"I will have tents set up for you and your companions." Elhan scrubbed a hand through his hair, and in the dancing light of the oil lamps, he looked suddenly very tired. "And supplies prepared for you tomorrow."

* * *

Swathed in thick, warm blankets, Kera rolled over again and cursed her galloping thoughts. A bowl of hot stew and two glasses of wine should have set her straight towards slumber, but she lay staring up at the roof of the tent and listening to the wind thrumming outside and Jaheira's soft, measured breaths. The practical half of her mind lingered on the possibility of another drow attack; surely they would prefer the cover of darkness for any new assault? She twisted over again, and flinched when Imoen murmured, "Can't sleep either, huh?"

"No." She exhaled sharply. "Stupid, huh?"

"Yep." Close by, blankets rustled. "Good to be back on the surface, though."

"Yes."

The silence stretched, febrile and impatient.

It had not been like this, she reflected, not before Spellhold, not before Irenicus. How many nights had she and Imoen spent up until dawn, speaking of things that were mostly inconsequential, at Candlekeep and after?

Her skin prickled. She kicked the blankets away, rummaged in the darkness for her boots. Found one, and her sword. The other she discovered half under her pack.

"I'm pretty sure the elves are taking all the watches tonight," Imoen remarked lightly.

"I know." She tugged the laces tight, sat up and buckled her sword belt back on. "It just feels stuffy in here. I'll be back soon."

Without waiting to hear Imoen's reply, she pushed onto her feet and ducked out into the chill night air. Embers glowed in the firepits, and elven guards patrolled, their footfalls enviably silent against the grass. Overhead, the indigo dome of the night sky was lit by the fierce glow of the nearly full moon. Kera listened to the soft sounds of the night, the wind soughing against branches, and again tried to work out how long they had been beneath the earth. _Too long_, she thought. Too long amid the darkness and the drow, and trying desperately to stay alive. She looked down at her hands, clenched and pale, her knuckles threaded with old scars. For too long she had not looked like herself at all, had hidden behind the spell-wrought mask of a drow.

She dragged her head up, breathed in slowly and deeply, forcing her raging pulse calm. She remembered how Adalon's spell had cloaked across her, tiny needles jagging into her skin, burrowing bone-deep. How she had fallen, her knees buckling with the sudden, shocking pain. How the hands she had raised to her temples had become obsidian, and made finer, how the loose tresses knotted at her nape had become soft white.

She shook her head. She had no time for such thoughts, not now, not now that Ust Natha lay beneath them, and Athkatla waited.

Away from the tents, near three tall pines, stood the drow commander, Solaufein. He was facing away from the firepits and the camp, his head tilted back slightly. Kera crossed the cool, damp earth, let her boots scrape a little louder than necessary.

He turned before she got within about a dozen paces of him. His wary expression softened, and he said, "Sleep is elusive when you're expecting to be attacked, yes?"

"Oh, yes." She paused beside him, noticed that he was unarmed. "Your weapons?"

He shrugged. "The elves preferred to keep them for tonight."

She snorted. "Making a point, were they?"

"I am not wearing chains. I consider that an advantage, since I know exactly what my kinsmen would do to a lone elf in Ust Natha."

"True."

His gaze slid back up to the moon, and she wondered if she was intruding. "I'm sorry. I'm disturbing you, aren't I?"

"No, I was just looking at the moon." At strange, fleeting smile tugged at his lips. "I've never been able to just _look_ at it undisturbed before."

"Oh." She scuffed one foot against the ground. Under the flood of pale light, his face was all sharp, shadowed angles. "I'll leave you to it, then."

"No," he said, softly. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. I am not quite as quick with your language as I thought."

"You're better than I am at yours," she retorted immediately.

"You spoke it in Ust Natha."

"No. The _spell_ spoke it in Ust Natha." She shook her head. How strange it had been, to feel her own lips and tongue framing those odd, alien syllables, all lilting sibilance. Stranger still, to hear the language falling from the mouths of drow and to know what they might be saying, even though part of her mind knew that she could not possibly comprehend the twisting, hissing words. "I don't know how it worked. It was part of the illusion."

He nodded slowly, his red eyes still on the silver disc of the moon above.

"Why would you need to speak our language?"

"It helps," he answered, dryly. "Those of us lucky enough to be chosen for surface raids find it useful to speak the enemy's language. Your language, elvish as well."

"Makes sense." She breathed in, tasted the damp of the loam, and marveled at how rich it was. "We're going to be leaving at dawn. Will you be alright?"

"I have seen the sun before. I will manage."

She nodded slowly. Whatever she had planned to say or demand died in her throat. So she stepped away from him, leaving him to the moonlight and his thoughts, and murmured, "I'll see you in the morning, then."


	2. Daylight

_**Chapter Two – Daylight**_

Early morning mist curled around the pine trees. Wordlessly and almost soundlessly, the elven scouts handed out new arrows and checked weapons and armour. Sandy-eyed and aching, Kera kept her gaze fixed on the murky grey-blue sky and tried to ignore the bustle of movement around her. She wanted to be away from the camp and out in the forest, with the clear goal of Athkatla and Bodhi's death ahead of her.

_Who else, _she thought, _would Irenicus trust with the Rhynn Lanthorn? Who else would be trusted to spirit the thing away from the elves, and leave their city at the mercy of Irenicus and his drow allies? _

"Hey, Kera." Imoen's hand brushed her arm, and she flinched out of her thoughts. "You in there?"

She nodded. Gulped down a quick breath and realised that Elhan was speaking again, murmuring his way through a farewell. She uncurled her fingers, felt sweat on in the inside of her gloves. "I'm in here."

Imoen shot her a sidelong glance. "Not convinced."

She remembered the ship, taking them away from Spellhold and Brynnlaw Island, and how she had woken from uneven dreams. How the hull had rolled and canted beneath her, and how it seemed that she could feel every powerful surge of the sea inside herself.

_She left her cloak flung across the bunk behind her. Treading carefully, quietly, she moved past Jaheira, noted that Imoen's blankets were as empty as her own. She knew her sister had not slept; had heard her, twisting and gasping, turning over with every rushing swell of the water beneath the ship. _

_ On the deck, she was met with the brisk cold of flung spray and the shrieking night wind. The chill stole her breath, and she fumbled her way across the swaying planks to the rail. "Imoen?"_

_ Imoen's hands were locked around the rail, her head bowed. Staring down at the heaving black waves below. "Can't sleep?"_

_ "No." _

_ "Me neither."_

_ She joined her friend – no, her _sister_, she had to remind herself, truly her sister. She should have suspected, in hindsight, should have wondered if there was more to _both_ of them living at Candlekeep in Gorion's shadow. _Both_ of them endured by the old monks, when there was no reason for it, save for Gorion's distant affections. _Both_ of them with a past in common; they had no parents, no memories, no family name. _

_ "What happened?"_

_ Imoen stiffened. The wind whipped her fading pink hair across the harsh lines of her cheekbones. "In Spellhold, you mean?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "I don't want to talk about it."_

_ "Imoen."_

_ "Don't want to talk about it." _

_ "I spent months walking around the countryside," Kera said, never once taking her gaze from the rolling waves. "All over Athkatla, all the way to the damn Windspear Hills and back. Getting the coin so I could come and find you. What happened?"_

_ "The same," Imoen said. _

_ Kera licked her lips, tasted the bright tang of sea salt. "Did you see him much?"_

_ Between them, that only ever meant Irenicus._

_ "What do you want to hear?" Imoen shook her head. "That I spent those months of yours cooped up and hungry, or tied to a table and picked at with knives and sharp things? Which is better, Kera?" _

_ "The truth." _

_ "The truth?" She stared down, stayed silent as the ship pitched through another heaving trough. "The truth is that I hated it. I hated it, and I hated him, and at one point, I hated you."_

_ "Me? Why?"_

_ "Because I was there because of what he wanted to do to _you_." She shrugged helplessly. "At least, that's what I thought. Turns out that I can't hate you for it, because hey, we're the same after all." _

_ "I didn't know, Imoen."_

_ "No. Neither did I." She flicked straggling hair out of her eyes. "Kera?"_

_ "What?" _

_ "Thanks for coming to get me."_

_ Kera nodded slowly. She wanted to say that Imoen was welcome, so very welcome. She wanted to gather her sister into her arms, salt-streaked skin and wet hair and jutting bones and all. She wanted to say that it had not been so long, not really, crossing the green distances between Imnesvale and Athkatla, between Trademeet and Athkatla, not when Imoen had been the one locked up in Spellhold. _

_ She said nothing, and turned away, her head bowed against the bitter squall of the night. _

_

* * *

_

The sun rose above the mantling mist, rinsing the sky pale yellow. Walking carefully over rain-wet moss and the smooth shapes of half-hidden boulders, Kera set a quick pace and ordered Valygar on ahead, scouting between the high, dark trees. This far from the merchant roads, she suspected few bandits, but the thick press of the pines afforded little visibility, and she preferred to be cautious, in any case.

The day wore on, and the sun spun above the treeline, searing away the clouds and leaving clear sky. Kera stopped, aware of the ache in her shoulders, the weight of her pack, her sword at her hip. The air was full of the sound of rain pattering against branches and leaves and rocks, and somewhere above her, a crow complained. She allowed herself a small smile and pushed on, aware of how her boot heels caught and dug in against the earth. How wet ferns dragged damp lines across her leathers when she pushed through them. How the air against her face smelled of nothing more menacing than rain. She paused again, glanced behind. Noticed Jaheira first, walking close to Imoen, their heads bent together as they spoke. She quelled a sudden surge of envy and looked away from them, past Minsc's broad, stocky frame to the tiefling, Haer'Dalis, and finally to the drow.

In the open air, the black segmented armour he wore seemed strange and jagged. His long white hair was caught back off his face, and she noticed that his eyes were narrowed and firmly pinned on the ground.

"Solaufein?"

The stubborn line of his jaw did not shift. "Yes?"

"Your eyes are hurting."

"My eyes are fine."

"Your eyes are hurting," she said again. "Stay in the shade of the trees. I can take up your position."

"No."

"If we are attacked or ambushed, I need you able to see clearly."

His head jerked up defiantly. "I can see clearly."

"Alright." She shrugged and kept walking. "Let me know if you change your mind."

* * *

Night closed over the forest, bringing a biting northerly wind and the threat of more rain in the lowering grey clouds. The campfire spat and rippled, the logs beneath the flames hissing. Imoen crouched closer, and a quick spell added a burst of dry heat to the blaze. While Minsc and Valygar wrestled with the tents, Jaheira caught Kera's elbow, drew her close.

"Here," Jaheira said, pressing a small wooden jar into her hands. "Give it to the drow."

"What is it?"

"It cools the skin, reduces heat and swelling," she said, and shrugged. "It will soothe."

"Thank you."

Another shrug, and Jaheira hooked up her spear again. "We need to move quickly, and that gives him little time to adapt. I don't know why you did it, Kera, but it was your choice, so I will help."

She nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"Do you need anything else?"

_Everything_, she thought. Her gaze dropped from Jaheira's dark, challenging eyes. "No," she said.

She found the drow away from the fire, perched on a rock and with his sword unsheathed across his knees. With slow, practiced stokes, he ran a whetstone down the elegant line of the blade. "Solaufein?"

He did not raise his head. "Yes?"

"I have something for you."

His head lifted. "You have something..?"

"For you." She hopped up onto the boulder beside him, saw his shoulders stiffen. "It's just salve. It will ease the skin around your eyes. It won't magically help you see any better, but it will soothe the pain."

"There is no pain," the drow said. He sheathed his sword with a dull ring of metal. "And I can see. I do not wish…"

"It is not a bribe," Kera said, softly, keeping her gaze trained on the ground. "Nor is it meant as an insult. I imagine you are in some discomfort, and this will help. That is all."

For a long moment he was silent. "Thank you," Solaufein said eventually.

"Thank Jaheira. She made it."

* * *

Much later, stars glittered across the dark ribbon of night sky visible between swathes of grey cloud. Kera finished her patrol of the camp again and let herself look up. Her breath plumed out between her lips. Mercifully, her watch had passed without upset, but part of her prickled at the thought of having to sleep and face dreams that would likely be riddled with the corridors of Spellhold.

_And Irenicus,_ she thought. _Always Irenicus. _

Still, she had no other option, so she padded over to the tent, carefully tugged the flaps open, and whispered, "Solaufein? It's Kera."

Something moved in the shadows, white against inky black. "I'm awake."

She crawled backwards, not wishing to disturb the tiefling bard who would likely be snoring next to him. After dinner, Haer'Dalis had offered the space in his tent to Solaufein, along with the insouciant admission that an outcast drow was nowhere close to the strangest creature he had slept near. Kera had excused herself at that point, but not without a slight smile.

Solaufein emerged into the crisp night air, in the middle of buckling his sword around his hips. "Anything?"

"Nothing untoward at all. I can't decide if it's good or simply bewildering."

"A little of both, I imagine."

She fell silent, and watched sidelong as he tipped his head back and simply breathed. Breathing in the cold and the soft sounds of the night, she supposed. "Solaufein, I wonder if we might speak of something?"

He nodded.

She turned so that she was looking at the dark, faceless stand of pine trees. "You know that Irenicus captured my friend. My sister."

"Yes."

"I…may not have been entirely honest as to why Irenicus captured us."

"No. You never said why you were captured." His accent was lilting, wry. "Silence is not the same as dishonesty."

"Perhaps not." She twisted her fingers together and wondered if she was making the right choice. "There is something you need to know, if you wish to stay with us."

He stayed poised, listening and patient.

"Irenicus captured us because of my – because of _our_ – heritage." How many times had she broached this same subject, felt the cold sweat break out across her skin and frantically wondered what her listener would think, say?

"Your heritage."

"Yes." She shook her head. "Look, I can't think of any way to make this sound any better than it is. My father was…I have the blood of Bhaal in me."

"What does it mean?" Solaufein asked, quietly.

"It means…" She shook her head again. "It means Irenicus wanted my soul for his own."

"And your sister? Imoen?"

"My sister's soul for his sister. Bodhi."

"I do not entirely understand," the drow said, slowly. "But if you still wish it, I will stay, and help you with your vengeance."

"Yes. I would like that. There's one other thing."

He arched a snowy eyebrow. "Only one?"

"No," she admitted. "But for now, one other thing. I don't know if you know this. Bhaal was the Lord of Murder. The God of Murder."

"Was?"

"He's dead."

"So you wish to kill Bodhi, and return your sister's soul to her."

"Yes," she said, fiercely. "And then I will kill Irenicus."

"I will stay," the drow repeated. "I will help you."

She smiled, tentatively. "Thank you."

* * *

_Her fingertips scraped against the dry stone floor. She tried to breathe but her throat felt too tight, constricting. She could hear Bodhi's laugher, sharp and pitiless and driving into her head. Somewhere behind, Imoen sobbed, and Valygar shouted out another challenge. Another blow slammed into her stomach, and she collapsed onto her side. Something hard clipped her forehead, and white light burst across the inside of her eyelids. _

_ Footsteps, running past her. Valygar crying out, and the thump of wood against flesh. Minsc screamed a warcry, cut off too quickly. _

_ She was _killing_ them, Kera realised. That vampire bitch was _killing_ them. _

_ She screamed, and the sound ripped from her mouth. The empty, aching space inside her turned hot and angry. She needed to get up, needed to get to her feet. Needed to sink her fingers into the vampire's throat and wrench her down onto the floor. _

_ She shoved up onto her feet, swore when the whole world seemed to tilt around her. She blinked, tried to clear her vision. She could see the yellow stone walls, the high pillars, thick with dust and cobwebs. She could see Bodhi, her pale features twisted and smiling as she raked a dagger across Jaheira's chest. A follow-up strike sent the druid woman sprawling. _

_ "No!" _

_Bodhi uncoiled, launching herself at Jaheira. Minsc's mace met her halfway, sending her staggering back. She howled, gripped his wrist, and twisted. _

_ Kera heard the sharp snap as the bones gave and broke, and then she was moving. Throwing herself at Bodhi, dragging her back from Minsc, stumbling when the vampire's fist crashed against her jaw. _

_ She hit the floor again, spitting blood. The coppery taste filled her mouth and her nose. Under her skin, she was very aware of heat, prickling and pushing, little hooks digging up towards the surface. _

_ Like in Merella's cabin, when she had seen the walls painted with blood. Like in Firkraag's lair, when the sudden shocking spill of the dragon's blood had flooded her. Like in the sacred druid grove, when she had seen Cernd's jaws dripping crimson when he stood over Faldorn's broken body. _

_ She twisted over. Somehow forced herself up to her feet again. She saw Bodhi send Imoen spinning away, until the girl hit the pillar and crumpled. _No,_ she thought. _Not again. Not so soon. I just _found_ her again.

_Three steps took her to Bodhi, and she grabbed her and yanked her back. Hissing, the vampire whirled. Something sharp sliced across her shoulder, and Kera breathed in the warm and welcome scent. _

_Blood, she knew, pulsing out of herself. _

_And between one breath and the next, it _happened_. _

_She did not mean to, she _desperately_ did not mean to, but Bodhi swung, fingers dripping red, and Kera _changed_. _

_She felt it start, felt the sharp spars of claws and spines pushing out through her skin, felt her bones wrench and lengthen. She felt it sweep over her, this whatever it was, felt it turn her thoughts to a mindless red whirl. _

"_Child of Bhaal." Bodhi stared at her, all the sly amusement stripped from her face. "What have you become..?"_

* * *

Kera woke to tangled sheets and dawn light lancing in through the tent flaps. Her mouth was dry, and she found herself looking down, checking that her hands were her own, waiting while her skin cooled.

"Here," Jaheira said, startling her. She pressed a mug into her hands. "Drink this. It's warm."

She obeyed, swallowing hot, sweet tea until her throat hurt. "Did I disturb you?"

"Don't worry about it." Jaheira's smile did not quite reach her eyes. "Now, do you want breakfast?"

"I'm fine."

"You'll eat, girl, if I have to force you. Now come on. I've got Minsc cooking up something warm."

Without speaking, Kera trailed her outside, into the brittle chill of the early morning. Dew clung to leaves and grass and the arching tips of the branches. Minsc knelt at the fire, while his tiny hamster companion, Boo, ran up the length of his arm and perched on his broad shoulder. Kera smelled porridge and honey, and her stomach growled.

"Go on," Jaheira said, gentler. Firmly, she handed her a bowl, and propelled her towards the fire.

She managed most of a heaped bowl, liberally swathed with honey, and shook her head gratefully at Minsc when he offered second helpings. He shrugged, grinned back at her, and spooned the rest of the porridge into Valygar's bowl instead.

The morning wore on, uneventful, the trees whispering beneath the wind and the path winding ever south-west. Kera matched pace with Jaheira, but the other woman spoke little, and she could not quite settle upon anything inconsequential or unimportant to say to break the silence. She remembered Baldur's Gate, and before, and how she had walked beside Jaheira and Khalid and plied them with every question her young, excited mind could conjure.

But that was before Irenicus, and before she had stumbled upon Jaheira's husband, splayed out and gutted on a table. Someone's hand brushed against her elbow, and she jerked away.

"I'm sorry," Solaufein said. "I said your name, twice, but you did not seem to hear me. I did not mean…"

"No." Kera shook her head, tried to rein in her scattering nerves. "It's alright. I was daydreaming."

"Daydreaming."

"Of a sort. Why have we stopped?"

"Jaheira has called a halt," he said, his eyes flickering as he looked at her. "It is nearly sunset."

From his lips, the word fell strange and foreign. She would have smiled, but her palms were sticky with sweat and she wondered how she had lost the afternoon to her own thoughts.

"Sunset," she echoed. She blinked rapidly, tried to clear the fog from her vision.

"Is there anything…" Solaufein's lips thinned. "Forgive me. I should not have said anything."

He turned away from her, a twisting, serpentine movement. She watched him go, watched as each soundless step took him across the glade and past the fire. As always, he stood with his back to the flames, the unreeled length of his hair bright against his black armour.

"Kera," Jaheira said. "Are you listening to me?"

"Sorry."

The druid sighed, crouched beside her. Reached out with one agile, suntanned hand and grasped her chin. "You look dreadful, girl."

She suppressed the urge to wrench away. "I feel alright."

"I want you on first watch, young lady, do you understand me?"

"If you want."

"Kera." Jaheira's hand hovered over her knee before pulling away. "If you need to…I mean, I'm here."

Kera nodded, and her gaze wandered across the soft green spread of the glade to the drow. "I know."


	3. Secrets

_As usual, most of the characters do not belong to me. Reviews are always welcome, and just a reminder of the rating for this chapter, and those to come. _

_**Chapter Three – Secrets**_

Kera lay on her stomach and listened to the wind tugging at the tent. Branches rattled, and she realised again how she had missed the sound in Ust Natha.

Ust Natha, where the sounds of the night were feet on dry rock and the whisper-quiet hiss of blades sliding free and the river that coiled and curled its sluggish way in the darkness.

_She shoved the door open, stalked across the plush crimson rugs. Pale lights glowed behind the panes of the lanterns. She noticed Imoen first, her enspelled drow form sprawled across the chair. Jaheira paced, and spun around when Kera let the door close behind her. "Where were you?"_

"_Out."_

"_Doing what?"_

"_Doing nothing."_

_In point of fact, she had been out ambushing and killing a drow priestess and carving her brain out of the blood-ribboned cup of her skull, but she could not tell Jaheira that. _

"_Nothing?"_

"_Nothing."_

Kera rolled over again, pausing when she heard Imoen murmur something inaudible. The drow priestess had been named Qilue, she recalled, and the thing in the tank – the aboleth – had wanted her dead.

The price of a secret, the priestess' brain removed and taken to the tank in payment.

_She crossed the plaza, head down, and hands hooked through her belt. Kill a priestess, and bring her brain back. The creature's voice seemed to slither around inside her head, prompting, cajoling, demanding. _

_ She would not involve the others, she decided. _

_ Imoen and Minsc would quite rightly disapprove, and Jaheira would let her know exactly what she thought of cold-blooded murder. Valygar would probably refuse point-blank. She suspected Haer'Dalis would not care either way, but she knew that if she went to him, she would end up telling Imoen, telling the others. _

But this was murder, and worse.

But the priestess is a drow, and a killer, _she thought, _and who knows what she's done to others in her time?

_ Kera shook her head. That was hardly the point, but the creature knew her appearance was a spell-wrought lie, and that was a secret that could not be let loose._

_ "Veldrin." _

_ She flinched, realised she was being addressed, and looked up and into Solaufein's speculative eyes. "What?"_

_ "You are busy," he said, not a question._

_ "Yes. I have some business to attend to." _

_ "Forgive me." He ducked his head. "I will see you later, then."_

_ "No, wait." When he stopped, his hands loose and his head still obediently bowed, she was unsure of what to say. "Solaufein. You…have done things you did not wish to do?"_

_ "Sometimes," he said, warily. "Veldrin, this is not the place or the time."_

_ He meant the drow thronging the plaza around them, and the merchants calling prices from their stalls, and the watching eyes of the handmaidens, and she understood. "Yes. You're right. I'm sorry." _

_ "No." He paused, and his crimson eyes flicked up, meeting hers. "Do not apologise."_

_ She nodded and stepped past him. She found the priestess in the place the aboleth had said, and alone, as the aboleth had said. _

_ "Veldrin, is it?" The priestess ran a raking look over her. "Phaere has spoken of your prowess, foreigner. You are to be commended, it seems."_

_ "I hope so." She smiled cordially. "I wonder, Mistress, if I might ask some advice of you?" _

_ Qilue's eyes narrowed, turned speculative. "Concerning?"_

_ "House Despana, if does not seem too bold." _

_ "It is too bold, stranger, but also rather apt. But first, you will tell me something." Qilue motioned her closer. "What brought you here from Ched Nasad?"_

_ "I was sent by my mistress to aid in the defense of the city. To that end, I was ordered to meet with Commander Solaufein."_

_ "Him." The priestess rested elegant ebony hands on the table. "And so it was that you rescued our noble Matron Mother's most favoured daughter."_

_ "Yes."_

_ "Quite a feat." _

_ "Yes," Kera said again. Very carefully, she slid her left hand up her thigh. Slowly let her fingertips brush the dagger that hung at her hip. "Phaere has been most gracious in her gratitude."_

_ "I'm sure she has." _

_ She had one chance, if that, and she was already dallying. The priestess would turn, or stand, and she would have to attack fairly, and she did not fancy her chances, not alone like this._

_ She waited, watched as Qilue's gaze dropped down to the table again. She leaned her weight onto her right foot, and vised her fingers around the dagger hilt. The priestess shifted, pushing back in her chair, and Kera leaped. She slammed full-force into the drow, dragging her out of the chair onto the floor. Qilue hit the floor and rolled, yanking Kera along with her. Her knees smacked hard against the stone and she tried to brace herself, tried to pin the priestess down. _

_Qilue hissed and thrashed. One hand lashed out, landed a stinging blow across Kera's temple. She gritted her teeth and drove her elbow into the priestess' throat. When the drow sagged, the breath whistling between her lips, she followed up with the dagger. _

_One clean cut finished her, and Kera set about the terrible business of driving the dagger through the thick curves of bone and slowly and methodically opening the drow's head. _

Kera pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. She remembered how the floor had seemed awash with Qilue's blood, and how she wondered if there would be gossip or suspicion. She remembered how she had delivered the aboleth's dreadful bargaining chip, wrapped up and heavy in her arms. She flung the blankets away and wondered if she should cave in to Jaheira's suggestion that she let the druid give her something to help her sleep. But no, she did not want to, not when it might mean becoming trapped in the nightmares.

Cautiously, Kera padded out into the night air, and was almost unsurprised when she saw the drow, standing with one hand clasped against the leaning whorls of a grey ash tree. Past the glowing embers of the fire, Valygar walked the length of the glade and back, lifting his head to nod to her.

Kera inclined her head in response and was quietly glad when, as usual, he did not try to strike up some conversation or other. She meandered her way across to the trees, and the drow. "Solaufein?"

He turned, and she saw that he had his other hand curled over the hilt of his sword. "Yes?"

"May I join you?"

He blinked. "Yes."

She wanted to ask him if he chose to sleep little because he was wary, of them and of the surface, or whether he preferred the easy darkness of the night, or whether he simply needed little rest. Instead, she let herself study him sidelong, let her gaze run across his knife-keen profile and up to the line of delicate silver hoops that hung from his ear. "Have you ever faced a vampire before?"

"No," the drow answered. "Never. I understand that they are quite the daunting foe."

"This one certainly is."

"You faced her before."

"Twice," Kera admitted. She leaned against the tree, felt the uneven bark press wonderfully against her shoulder. "In her lair, before we left Athkatla, and on Brynnlaw Island."

"How does she fight?"

"Clever. Fast and clever. I didn't really know what we were getting into the first time, and the second…I was very tired."

His eyes narrowed, piercing and red. "Irenicus let you go."

"Yes. We were…of no more importance to him."

"And yet this vampire sister of his tried to kill you."

"Out of spite, perhaps. She…well, she was very close to becoming successful, and something happened." She twisted her hands together, and finished, "I changed. Into something else. An avatar of Bhaal. I was…it was a monster."

"This change was accidental?"

"I didn't _plan_ it, if that's what you mean." She shook her head slowly. "It happened again, after Bodhi fled."

"And since?"

"No," she said, truthfully. "I've dreamed of it, and often, but no, it hasn't happened again." She glanced across at him, and found herself vaguely irritated by his unperturbed expression. "You're not shocked?"

"Of course I am," Solaufein said. "But we have our own tales of those who walk with the blood of gods in their veins. This dead god who is your father…"

"Bhaal," she said, and the name sat odd and heavy on her tongue.

"Bhaal," the drow repeated. "It was his blood that changed you, yes?"

"Yes. I suppose." The blood of her father, roaring and rushing to fill the empty place where her soul had been.

"Is there any way to know if this change will happen again?"

"No."

The corners of Solaufein's mouth twitched. "Then I suppose we must simply hope that it does not happen again before your soul is returned to you, yes?"

"Oh, you make it sound so easy." She let herself laugh then, uneven and brittle.

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course."

For a long moment, Solaufein stared up at the grey arch of the branches overhead. "You did not say to the elven commander that your foe is a vampire."

"No."

"You mentioned nothing in fact, save her name. And yet," he said, slowly, drawing the words out as if weighing each one. "And yet…the supplies he offered. Food and wine, salted meat and weapon oil. And stakes and blessed water."

"You noticed, did you?" Kera grinned. "It seems our elven allies are keeping secrets."

"As are we."

"Yes." She met his gaze, crimson and implacable and level with her own. "Some secrets are dangerous. Others necessary."

"Some are both," he said. He reached out, ran one dark hand along the rough ash bark.

"Faith kept for Lady Silverhair is both," she pointed out, and suddenly wondered if perhaps she should have stayed silent.

His fingers curled against the tree. "Yes. It is. I prayed alone, and terrified that I would be discovered, or overheard."

"There were no others?"

"Probably. But to seek them out in Ust Natha, as a male fallen into disfavour with House Despana?" His lips twisted. "I imagine there are few faster ways to invite a quick and violent death."

Kera watched as his fingers traced circles against the tree trunk. "I saw you in the arena."

He froze. "You did?"

"More than once," she admitted. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"No," he said. "When?"

"When you fought three other drow, and then when you fought a single opponent, twice."

"What did you think?"

Kera smiled. "Are you asking me as a surfacer or as someone who knows which way round to hold a sword?"

He turned around, his white eyebrows knotting. "Both."

"To the first, then, well…I think your drow arenas are horrifying. I understand a test of arms and prowess, but you kill each other in those arenas, and often."

_The floor was polished and black, trapping the dancing light of the silver torches. She followed Phaere's lithe figure through the press of the crowd. All around her, drow called out bets and jostled against each other and shouted out orders for wine. The air was heavy with incense, and she nearly lost Phaere somewhere between the high arched door and the seats beyond. _

_ "Wine?" Phaere beckoned her closer, smiled. "Veldrin, you look exhausted. Is something amiss?"_

_ She sat beside Phaere, accepted the glass. "Forgive me. I find myself weary, that is all. What will we be watching?"_

_ "Solaufein," Phaere said, and her lips thinned. "He is to perform."_

_ And he did, stepping into the arena below with a single sword and clad in leathers. A moment of impatient silence, while he inclined his head. He waited a heartbeat longer, and then he mowed through three opponents in quick, violent succession, the blade hanging deceptively loose in his hand. _

_ "He's good," Kera said without thinking. _

_ "Yes." Phaere's eyes were riveted on Solaufein as he whirled, his sword snapping out and sliding hilt-deep into his last opponent. Barely pausing, he spun away, flicking the blood from the blade in the same fluid motion. "He is good." _

_ Kera observed as Solaufein stalked out of the arena, his sword balanced over his shoulder. She sat in a silence she was unwilling to break, while Phaere poured more wine, and below, two female drow circled, eying each other over the points of spears. _

That day had been the same day that Phaere had first broached the subject of betrayal, she remembered. Whispered carefully behind raised wineglasses, while the arena below rang with the fierce noise of combat.

"To the second," Kera said unsteadily. "You fought well."

He tipped his head to one side. "I spent more time in the arena when I was younger. My master preferred that I find more of a future than a messy death for the pleasure of our mistresses, though, so I was moved to the Fighters' Guild."

"Yet you fought in the arena while I was there."

"Yes." His mouth flexed, grimly. "I was ordered, by the grace of Matron Mother Ardulace, and more than once."

"She wanted you to die," Kera said, softly.

"Saves the trouble of finding a loyal assassin, yes?" His teeth flashed in a quick, bitten-off grin. "She was fairly persistent."

"Did you enjoy it?"

His eyebrows dipped, and she saw him thinking, perhaps trying to work out her meaning. "The training? Or the arena? Or both?"

"The arena. The killing."

"I enjoyed the fighting," Solaufein said carefully. "Drow are taught to kill, easily and well. We are taught this as soon as we can hold a sword. One cannot be learned without the other."

"I understand," she murmured, and it was not quite a lie. "And…I did not mean to offend you."

"You didn't. You asked a question."

She looked sharply at him, tried to read his face, indistinct in the shadows of the trees. "Who was your master?"

"His name was Jysdril. He taught me scouting and fighting and swordplay. He was strict, but he was fair. Well, _I_ would have called him fair."

"You mean you only got flogged every other day?"

"I mean he did what he was meant to do. He trained me. And that was all."

Something changed in the soft, guarded timbre of his voice. She had heard it before, when she had come to his rooms and told him she was there because she was expected to kill him. "Solaufein…"

"He gave me my sword. He had it made for me after I survived my first arena fight. May I show you?"

Not so long ago, she would have laughed lightly at such a stilted request and responded with something mild. But he was a drow, in the presence of a female, and asking to unsheathe a weapon, and she was apparently his leader. "Of course you may."

He unbuckled his sword belt, and braced the sword between his palms, and murmured, "I've never used another sword since."

Her hand hovered over the elegant silver swirls that descended down the black scabbard. "May I?"

Solaufein nodded.

She traced the curling patterns slowly, all the way up to the haft. When he nodded again, she wrapped her hand around the hilt. Like most drow swords, the blade was narrow and lethal, the three inches just above the hilt inscribed with odd, jagged characters she could not read. "It's beautiful."

"Yes," he said, quietly.

Kera slid the sword clear of the scabbard, noticed the same pattern mirrored on the other side of the blade. "It's light."

"Very light. Good for close quarters fighting." Solaufein reached out, caught her hand, and guided her grip a little lower on the hilt. "Here is better. Here, the balance is better."

She nodded, and noticed that his skin was warm, his fingertips rough. "Beautiful," she said again.

His hand lingered over hers for a moment longer before he snapped the sword back into the scabbard. "This city of yours," he said as he settled the sword belt around his hips again. "How close are we?"

"Four days. Perhaps three, if the weather and the roads stay clear."

"And then we will face this vampire?"

"Yes." She stared down at her hands, empty and slightly cold, and found herself at a loss for words. "Yes, we will."


	4. The Lair

_**Chapter Four – The Lair**_

Four days marching took them through the scrubby lowland, winding further towards the coast until the path turned thick with gravel and churned-up mud. Beneath the deepening swathe of dusk, Kera followed Valygar's enviably light steps down the twisting, rocky path towards the city gates. Brisk and sharp and plucking at the folds of her cape, the wind smelled of the sea that lay beyond, glittering and red beneath the disc of the setting sun.

"Kera," Jaheira called. "Wait."

She stopped, her shoulders stiff. "What is it?"

"Wait," Jaheira said again. "Are you certain this is to be done now?"

"What do you mean, certain? We've already talked about this. With the sun setting, she should still be underground for a while, and damned if I'm going to wait another day while she sits there playing with Imoen's soul."

"Yes, and I understand that," the druid replied, calm and quiet. "But you are very tired."

She bit back the urge to snarl something in response, and said, "And I will be all the more tired after a worrying, sleepless night. We're here. It needs to be done."

"Very well."

"Imoen." Kera looked past Jaheira's narrow shoulder to her sister. "I want you to stay behind me."

"_Kera_…"

"I mean it. She knows we're here for your soul. Stay behind me."

She uncurled her fingers, clammy inside her gloves. She glanced across to Solaufein, saw that he had already tugged his hood up, as agreed. By the time they reached the streets below, she imagined that the sun would be close to vanishing, but even so, she remembered Viconia, about to be burned simply for the crime of being a drow on the surface.

At the gates, the bored-looking guards said little, simply motioned them through. Even so, Kera walked beside Solaufein, noted with some satisfaction that he kept his head down, his steps quick and light, his hair completely shrouded beneath the cowl. She led them down the slope, through the twisting, winding alleys as the sun sank away, and the dusk faded into night. Soft amber light gleamed from behind tavern windows, and she heard a horse running, hard and sharp against the cobbles. She smelled woodsmoke and sea salt, and the dank, damp smell that never seemed to lift from the city, even on days when the sun blazed.

Impatiently, she stalked up the wide road that curved up to the graveyard, and almost immediately she felt the silence.

The dead, waiting silence of the vampires beneath the ground.

Beside her, Solaufein stiffened, his head tilting back. "This place…"

"You feel it?"

"I feel…the absence of something." He shook his head, eyes narrow and fierce. "I do not like it."

"No," Imoen murmured from behind him. "It doesn't…Kera..?"

"We need to find her," Kera said, implacable.

"I know." Something flickered across Imoen's face, unreadable. "I know."

Torches fluttered along the grey, stark edges of the noble tombs. The night air was full of the scent of damp earth and blood, and when Kera shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, she could still smell it.

Without speaking, she crossed the graveyard, winding between the tombs, her heels crunching over loose gravel. The mausoleum that stood as entrance to Bodhi's lair seemed the same, unchanged since Aran Linvail had sent them after her.

She glanced over her shoulders at the others, was quietly pleased when she saw Minsc draw Imoen close to his big, broad frame, one hand cupped gently over her shoulder. He murmured something into her ear, and she nodded and gripped his hand. She could think of nothing to say – her throat was dry, and her head was roaring – so she shouldered the door open, and stepped through, into the darkness beyond.

"Wait." Solaufein glided ahead of her. "Let me. I can see far better than you."

She nodded back, clipped. "Be careful."

Caught in high iron brackets, torches smoked and sputtered, too close to the rough stone ceiling. Kera blinked and pressed on, the drow alongside her, one hand up to shield against the glare. Underfoot, the ground slanted down, curiously empty and silent. Suspicious, every nerve prickling, she made her way down, sword drawn.

They discovered the ornate, obscene dining chamber deserted. The chandeliers dazzled, clusters of hanging crystal, and the thick rugs were as plush and rich and crimson as they had been.

"Kera," Jaheira said, softly, and grasped her shoulder.

She leaned into the woman's touch for a long, welcome moment. Her head felt packed with wool, and when she swallowed, it hurt. She looked back at Imoen, saw that she was pale and huddled close to Minsc, her pulse fluttering visibly at her throat.

"Downstairs," Kera said, and it came out rough and unsteady. "She's waiting."

Somehow she made it down the steps and through the long corridor, all the way past the knifing corners, and to the high mahogany doors.

"I can feel her," Imoen murmured. She touched the doors, her hands shaking, and said, "I can feel _me_."

Kera knew that if she lingered any longer, she would falter. Would find some ragged excuse to turn around and flee, taking Imoen out of here and into the open, safe night above.

She kicked the door open, and the thick, coppery scent of blood washed over her.

_Blood_, thick and lapping at the white marble edges of the baths. Again, she wondered how many thieves had died, been drained and thrown aside. She made herself look across the polished floor, to where four grey-skinned vampires lounged, entirely unsurprised. "Where's your mistress?"

"You return, Bhaalspawn." One of the vampires uncoiled, all liquid, unnerving grace. "And for why? To find something you think is yours, perhaps?"

"Tell me where your mistress is."

The vampire smiled, her eyes dark and large and challenging. "Why, little Bhaalspawn?"

"Tell me."

Across the chamber, the smaller set of doors swung open, and Bodhi leaned against the frame. Her beautiful, pale features twisted into a smile. "And here you are at last. Did you not learn in Spellhold that to cross me is a poor decision?"

"Apparently not." Kera slid a hand down to her belt, checked the weight of the stakes strapped there. "You have two things, and I want them both."

"_Two_ things?" Bodhi's black eyes skipped to Imoen. "Your sister's lovely soul…ah. And the Lanthorn. The thing that came from Myth Rhynn so long ago, and that the elves want back because they are so lost, cast out from their city."

The vampire's musical, amused tone made Kera grit her teeth. "What's so special about Suldenessellar?"

"Did Elhan not tell you? Ah, stupid elf. Keeping secrets."

_Secrets again_, Kera thought. _What was it that Elhan knew about this vampire and her brother? _"What secrets?"

Bodhi laughed. "Elhan plays a dangerous game, does he not? Keeping such knowledge from a Bhaalspawn."

"What knowledge?"

Two sauntering steps took Bodhi to the marble bath. She leaned down, trailed one hand through the blood. "Did you never think to wonder why Irenicus wanted Suldenessellar helpless? Why wreak vengeance upon an elven city, Bhaalspawn?"

Kera watched, transfixed, as the blood fell in slow, thick drops from her fingers. "The elves of Suldenessellar hate drow, and outsiders. Elhan said Irenicus wrought destruction, nothing more."

"Outsiders," Bodhi spat, her voice suddenly cold. "Outsiders. Of course. No one other than an elf allowed inside the trees there, unless at the most pressing need. No elf would dare take the Lanthorn. No elf would let the city fall into such danger."

"You…" Her thoughts would not work, would not line up properly inside her head. "You took the Lanthorn because…"

_No,_ she thought. _That _cannot_ be right. Whatever Elhan was hiding, that cannot be right. They can't once have been…they _can't_. _

But she remembered Spellhold, and Irenicus' voice, cold and clear and implacable, speaking of a curse that had leeched his soul from his body. _  
_

"Because you were made soulless by the elves," Kera said.

Bodhi smiled, her teeth flashing white and curved. "Oh, you are clever, aren't you? You listened, did you? What else, then, Bhaalspawn? Why would the Queen of Suldenessellar feel such a punishment necessary?"

"Because you did something to them. To the Queen, or to the city." She watched as Bodhi swirled her hand through the blood again. _And to be that close to the Queen of Suldenessellar, who kept herself aloft and aloof in her treetop palaces, so they said, then… _"You were elvish," Kera said.

Bodhi's smile widened. "Once, yes. Until our souls were stripped from us, and so we took yours, in order to take our revenge."

"No," Kera said. "You will return Imoen's soul and the Lanthorn."

"Poor child. I have no intention of handing over the Rhynn Lanthorn, and I have no knowledge of how - nor inclination to - return her soul."

Curiously calm, she stared at Bodhi over the tip of her sword. "Then I will carve it from you after you die."

The other vampires moved first, launching themselves forward with frightening speed. Minsc and Valygar met them headlong, and Kera heard the surprised screech when Minsc's mace slammed into a vampire's head. Haer'Dalis danced past her, both swords ringing free, and quite calmly snaked himself behind them. Jaheira flanked Imoen's other side, her eyes blazing angrily. Her spear spun, the leaf-bladed tip clanging hard against a vampire's shoulder.

"Will you, indeed?" Ignoring the chaos, Bodhi cupped her hands in the blood, watched as it shimmered. "You can try, Bhaalspawn."

She straightened up, the blood scattering from her long, pale fingers, and Kera crashed into her before she could turn away from the bath. Bodhi's feet slipped, and she snarled when her heels hit the marble edge. She rallied, and one vicious swing sent Kera stumbling away. Solaufein darted into the gap, his sword flicking out low and fast. He landed a blow against the vampire's shoulder, opening pale skin. Kera saw the thick, dead blood slipping from the jagged wound. Somewhere behind, a vampire screamed, the sound turning high-pitched and frantic. Holy water, she guessed, burning.

Valygar called out for Imoen to move, and despite herself, despite Bodhi lunging at her again, Kera turned.

Saw the ranger ploughing into Imoen's shoulder, dragging her away. He spun, and his sword sank hilt-deep into the vampire's chest, raked up. Diving in from behind, Haer'Dalis drove a stake between the creature's shoulders.

"Kera!"

The drow's voice, and edged with desperation. He shoved her aside, and his sword flashed up, the flat clanging uselessly against Bodhi's claws. Following up, and lethally fast, the vampire slammed into him. Looped an arm around his slim frame and yanked. His footing lost, Solaufein thrashed, and point of his sword raked a thick line across her chest. Bodhi's other hand snapped around his wrist. She twisted, and Kera saw the drow go rigid. He held on, pushing back against her. He kicked out blindly, and Bodhi laughed.

"A drow," Bodhi said, amused. "Whyever did you bring a drow with you?" She buried her face against Solaufein's neck, inhaled. "He smells _divine_. Anger and hate and regret."

"Let him go," Kera said. "Your quarrel is not with him."

The vampire's fingers tightened, and Solaufein's sword dropped. "He's strong," she remarked, almost absently. "Very strong."

When he thrashed again, she wrapped her other hand in his hair, yanked his head back. Slowly, thoughtfully, Bodhi ran her lips along the drow's throat until she nuzzled his ear. "I wonder how his blood tastes?"

_No_, Kera thought, and threw herself forward. She was _not_ going to lose him to this vampire, not him or anyone else.

Solaufein went loose and limp in the vampire's grasp, his head lolling down. Kera grinned, viciously, and drove her sword into Bodhi's shoulder.

Bodhi shrieked and flung herself away.

Solaufein fell, hit the floor shoulder-first. He rolled up to his feet, scooped up his sword. "Go," he said, before Kera could demand to know if he was alright. "_Go_."

She turned, and braced herself when Bodhi spun at her again. The vampire was tall and lean and lithe, all muscle beneath that grey, dead skin. The follow-up blow left her winded, and the next kicked out the back of her knees. She hit the floor hard, reached out, and her fingers latched over the marble edge of the bath. She hauled herself up, and the scent of blood flooded her mouth. She turned, and when Bodhi lashed out again, she did not deflect. Instead, she angled herself away, let the blow glance against her side.

Over Bodhi's shoulder, she saw the drow, and the flicker of his sword as he attacked.

The vampire hissed and whirled, and Kera flipped her sword around and drove the pommel against the base of her neck. A solid kick to the vampire's knees drove her to the floor. Solaufein's sword sank into Bodhi, pinning her. She writhed, both hands latching around the blade and gripping hard.

Kera stepped around, unhooked a stake from her belt. "Hold her there."

The drow leaned on the sword, and Bodhi's face twisted horribly.

Staring at her, Kera was vaguely aware of the others, somewhere behind her, and the snap and clang of combat, and someone swearing, and her own breathing, even and measured. She needed to bury the stake in the vampire's body, needed to free Imoen's soul, but something stopped her. She reached out, caught Bodhi's chin. She looked at Bodhi, steadily, at the deep, black eyes, wide with anger, and the full, beautiful mouth, distended with pain.

Kera said nothing, and drove the stake into her chest, angling up under her ribs. The vampire's flesh was thick and cold, and did not give easily, and she had to grasp at Bodhi's shoulder for leverage.

Bodhi's whole frame jerked, silently, and she vanished, melting into mist.

Kera turned in time to see Minsc plunging a stake into the last of the other vampires. His face was drawn and pale, and blood dripped from a long gash on his forehead. She looked at the others, saw bruises and fear and welling cuts, and mercifully, no bite marks.

She strode across the chamber, pushed through the smaller set of doors. In here, the scent of blood was thicker, lingering. She noticed bookshelves, and a table, and decanters, and the coffin. Minsc heaved the lid aside. With Imoen beside her, Kera leaned over it, and saw Bodhi, lying still and waxen. Black hair framing her chiseled, striking features.

Imoen drew in a shaking breath. "Kera, can I…?"

"No," she answered, and forced the stake into the vampire's body again, pushing until she felt the tip bump against the stone beneath.

"_Oh_." Imoen swayed. Her hands scrabbled at the edge of the coffin. "Oh. _Kera_." She breathed in, slowly. "I can feel it."

Kera smiled, a little shakily. "It worked?"

"Yes." Imoen smiled back, and her hand moved, clasping over her sister's. "Oh, _yes_."

"Good." Kera swallowed, wondered if she should offer a hug, and decided against it. If it was done, and it was successful, what more could she say, anyway? She extricated herself from Imoen's hand, and muttered, "Need to find the Rhynn Lanthorn."

They found it in a small, plain box, beneath the table. Imoen's quick fingers tricked the lock, and inside lay the Lanthorn, wrapped in silk. Carefully, Kera lifted it out, noticed that it was strangely light. Pushing the wrappings aside, she saw the gleam of glass panes and beautiful, swirling patterns.

"Very pretty," Jaheira said, sounding tired. "Now, cover it up and keep it somewhere it won't break."

Kera smiled and stowed it between folded shirts in her pack. The back of her throat ached, and the scent of blood lay heavy in her mouth. "Come on. I need to be out of here."

* * *

Outside, the night was quiet and cool, and each gulping breath Kera took calmed her a little more. Amid the still peace of the tombs, Jaheira checked Minsc's forehead, and reprimanded Haer'Dalis when he tried to claim that the long, weeping slash down his forearm needed little attention. The moon swung high overhead by the time they crossed the city again, following the maze of narrow alleyways that converged at the docks. At the guildhouse, they were met with questions and surprise, but when Kera mentioned the vampires, and the crypt, and Spellhold, a runner was sent for Aran Linvail. Inside, they were ushered to familiar rooms with the promise of hot food and warm sheets. Bright, clean candles burned, white against the dark wood panels behind. One of the thieves – a young, coltish boy, little more than a child – muttered something about drow on the surface, and Kera rounded on him, snapping that allies were allies, and what was his point, anyway?

Sitting in Aran Linvail's study sometime later, a cup of spiced wine in her hands, Kera said, "Thank you again. I'm sorry to have disturbed you so late."

Aran laughed. "There is no need for an apology. You found your Imoen, yes?"

"Yes."

"That is good to know." Sprawled languidly in the chair, Aran raised one ringed hand. "And yourself?"

"Fine. Bodhi is dead, and the last of her followers along with her."

"Truly?" He leaned forward, topped up her cup. "Then I am in your debt indeed."

"I'll take payment of a night or two's rest in clean sheets," she answered.

"You're leaving soon?"

"Yes."

When she did not elaborate, Aran shrugged. "You have a drow with you. Where did you find him?"

"The Underdark," she replied, dryly.

He laughed again. "Forgive me. I do not mean to pry. Well, perhaps I do, a little."

"No, he's not going to slaughter everyone. No, he's not going to poison everyone."

His eyes sparkled, blue beneath his thick mop of blond hair. "As long as you're sure, Kera. Now. You look exhausted. Please help yourself to my hospitality, and I'll see you once you've slept."

After finishing the wine, and bidding him goodnight, Kera made her way up the stairs and flinched when she walked almost straight into Jaheira. "Oh…Gods. I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

"It's alright." Jaheira studied her carefully. "You've not slept yet?"

"No. How's Imoen?"

"Sleeping. She seems a little better."

"Has she spoken at all?"

Jaheira paused, her eyes dark and thoughtful. "About what?"

"Anything. Irenicus. Spellhold." _How she feels now she has her soul back_, Kera thought.

"She said she feels better," Jaheira said. "She's tired, and she needs to eat. I don't…" She shook her head. "I think she barely ate in Spellhold."

"Is she going to be alright?"

"Yes. With time, eventually." Jaheira scrubbed one hand across her face. "She needs food and rest and peace. As do you, my girl, I think."

Kera smiled. "Remind me again after Suldenessellar."

"She said the dreams are worse," Jaheira said, very quietly. "She said that in Spellhold, when she remembered what she dreamed, it was of Irenicus. But after he…" She glanced away, her forehead creasing. "After he took your souls away, the dreams changed."

"Dreams of blood, and strange things, and high open halls?"

"Yes."

"The dreams of Bhaal's blood," Kera said, close to a whisper. "Will she be alright?"

"She is like you, Kera. I don't know, but I hope." Jaheira smiled then, her eyes softening. "And when you are both safe with your souls, I will hope all the more."

In the bedroom, alone, Kera let the door close behind her. She had declined the offer of sharing with her sister or the druid, and had mumbled something about not wanting to disturb anyone if she could not sleep. But now, alone with the dying candlelight, she felt the silence too keenly. Even clean and warm and clad in clothes that did not smell of leather or weapon oil or the damp earth, she found herself restless. After staring at the ceiling for far too long, she sat up. Wrapping the blankets around her shoulders, she curled herself up in the windowseat and pulled the curtains tight behind her. There, she leaned her face against the panes and gazed out at the dark waters of the harbour until sleep finally claimed her.


	5. Loyalties

_**Chapter Five – Loyalties**_

Kera woke to stiff limbs and a dull ache in her back. She blinked over the edge of the blankets and found herself staring down at the grey harbour. Far away, she saw the foam breaking over high rocks, and a ship, the sails full-bellied, curving into the distance. She groaned and pushed off the windowseat. She shed the blankets, and methodically dragged a comb through the tangled nest of her hair. She found the others in the smaller of Aran Linvail's dining rooms, conversation filling the air as they ate breakfast. The scent of newly–baked bread reached her, and she found that she was hungry, after all.

Pausing at the door, she noticed Solaufein, sitting beyond Haer'Dalis, and looking entirely out of place against the bright wash of sunlight through the high windows. She smiled slightly, mostly to herself, and stepped through. Replied to Imoen's mild query that yes, she had managed to sleep, and quite well, actually. She stole a slice of bread from Valygar's plate and grinned when he snorted and muttered at her.

"Did you sleep alright?"

Solaufein's head jerked up. "I…yes. The sun woke me. I thought I would wake before it rose. What is your plan today?"

"Rest, and eat. Tomorrow, we will return."

He nodded, and did not ask useless questions about where, or to whom. "And today?"

"Today?" She reached for the water pitcher. "Have you ever seen the sea?"

"The sea. No."

"Would you like to?"

His eyebrows lifted. "Yes."

After excusing herself, Kera led the drow away from the dining room, and out into the courtyard, and through the colonnade at the far end. Before the voyage to Spellhold, she had spent too many days here, counting her own footsteps beneath the high columns, or else sitting perched on the wall. There, the stone was wind-scoured and damp, and steps lead down to the sand beneath. Kera hopped down onto the yellow strand, breathed in the stinging wind. The harbour was choppy, the waves curling against the wharves. Behind them, the high walls and panes of the Thieves' Guild rose, and she recalled how she had come down here alone, and stared over the rolling white-caps, and wondered about Imoen.

She turned, and saw that Solaufein had stopped, both feet on the sand. He turned into the wind for a brief moment before crouching down. He reached out and scooped up a handful of damp sand, rubbed it through his fingers.

"It feels strange," Solaufein said. "And it smells strange."

"I like it."

"You travelled on it?"

"The sea? Yes. To Spellhold."

She sat on the steps just behind him, watched while he trailed his fingertips through the sand. He found a shell, half-buried, and gazed at it.

"What is this?"

"It's a shell," she answered. "Something small used to live in it, in the sea."

"Oh." He stared at the soft pink curve of it. "You…must think me very ignorant."

"No. I just think you've never seen sand before. Or shells. It's not ignorance."

"You had never seen driders before. Or temples given over to Lolth. You never betrayed that ignorance."

"I couldn't."

"And I can?" He reached the tide line, watched as the foam rushed up to his boots. He knelt again and cupped his hands, watched as the water filled them. He inhaled deeply, and she found herself smiling when he brushed his lips across the water. "Salt."

"Yes."

Solaufein let the water stream through his fingers. He joined her at the steps, sitting with that easy, loose-limbed grace. He leaned down and scooped up another handful of sand, rolled the grains between his palms. "You are looking at me. What is it?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I was…thinking how different you look in daylight."

"Different?"

_The slave opened the door, ducked his head. She swept past him, and between the high black columns. Somewhere nearby, she heard low voices, and laughter. As directed, she found the third door on the left, and almost knocked before remembering that she was a drow female, and he was only a male, so she opened the door and strode in. _

_ Soft light met her, and reflections playing in the black walls, and Solaufein, standing shirtless and barefoot beside the bath. "Veldrin."_

_ She wondered suddenly if perhaps she should have knocked. "I have a message for you."_

_ "Indeed?" _

_ "Phaere asks that you meet her tomorrow."_

_ "She asks, does she?" He smiled. "If I refuse?"_

_ "I am not some errand runner," Kera said, coldly. "Refusal is your own business."_

_ He crooked one eyebrow. "And yet you run her errands so happily." _

_He reached up, untwisting the ties knotted in his hair near his temples. She found herself watching as his fingers feathered the narrow braids apart. _

"_I am a foreigner here," she said, and dragged her eyes away from him. "I do as I am asked."_

_Solaufein flicked his hair back over his shoulders, deliberately slowly, she was almost certain. He approached her as slowly, his red eyes speculative. "Always? How is it that you have not made a slave of yourself, yet?"_

_He was playing with her, she knew, playing with her the way all drow played with each other. Toying and seductive, and so aware of how her gaze kept sliding down the muscled lines of his chest. _

"_I am no slave," she snarled. _

"_No?" His taunting smile widened. "We shall see, foreigner. For now…will you be staying or leaving? My water will be getting cold." _

_His hands dropped to the laces on his black leggings. Kera knew drow bothered little over casual nudity, but all the same, heat flooded her face. She made herself look at him, into his fierce red eyes. "I'll be leaving."_

"Just different," she said, thoughtfully.

A small smile played across his mouth. "So are you."

* * *

When Kera idled too long in her room, studiously cleaning her sword and mending a tear in an old shirt, she was startled out of absent thoughts when someone knocked at the door. She opened the door and looked up into Imoen's hazel eyes. Before she could speak, her sister stepped into the room and muttered, "You've been cooped up in here all afternoon. Fancy some company?"

Kera nodded. "I was cleaning my sword."

"All day?" Imoen showed her the tray half-hidden behind her back. "I brought food as bribery."

She dropped back down beside her sword. "Bribery?"

"In case you didn't let me in."

"Thanks," Kera said, vaguely affronted.

"I figured you _had_ to have been as tired of all that Underdark food as I was. Apple?"

Imoen was chattering, as she often did when she was happy, or nervous, or simply had little inclination towards silence. Kera stole a sidelong glance at her, saw that her sister was still dreadfully thin beneath the baggy shirt and leggings, both in soft green, and both probably purloined from Jaheira.

She waited until her sister ran out of breath, and asked, "How are you feeling? Really, Imoen? How are you feeling?"

"Better," came the answer, after a pause. "Really. Better. My dreams are strange, but I feel better when I wake up. I don't feel as…hollow."

"Good."

"I dreamed of Sarevok."

Kera's head jerked up. "Sarevok?"

"Yep. Remember him? Your big brother, glowing eyes, really, really tall? Well, my big brother too, I guess." She chewed thoughtfully at a slice of apple. "Nothing happened in the dream. He was just…there."

"Alive?"

"Yes."

She remembered how it had felt when her sword jolted through the gap just beneath his breastplate. How the point had sunk into yielding flesh, and he had wrenched away, his face twisting. How she had realised, finally, that he could be hurt, and he could die.

She remembered Imoen holding her after he had fallen, ignoring the blood and sweat and grime and just _holding her_ while she sobbed out her exhaustion and her fear against her friend's shoulder.

_Her sister's shoulder_, she reminded herself.

"He's still down there," Imoen remarked.

Kera looked up, realised that her sister had moved, was kneeling in the windowseat. "What?"

"Solaufein. He's still down there."

"Doing what?"

"Touching the sand, I think."

Kera smiled. "He likes it. He's never touched sand before."

"Has he been out there _all day?_"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Imoen turned away from the window. "Kera?"

"Yes?"

She hesitated a moment longer, and blurted, "Why'd you bring him?"

"He helped us."

"Yes, but…" Imoen shrugged. "I don't know."

Kera picked up her dropped needle and thread, eyed her progress on the shirt. "You don't like him?"

"I don't know him." Imoen grinned. "I was thinking maybe we should make him swap that armour of his for something less conspicuous, but it probably wouldn't make him look any less drow-like."

"He'll be fine," Kera said, a little too defensively. She jabbed the needle through the fabric.

"Kera?"

"Yes?"

"Are you…frightened of going to Suldenessellar?"

Kera froze. "No," she said, slowly. "But I am frightened of what will happen when we find Irenicus there."

"Yes." Imoen stared down at her scarred hands, linked over her knees. "Me too." She shook herself, and shoved back up to her feet. "You're bunching the fabric."

Kera glared down at the ragged line of stitches. "I know."

Imoen quartered the room again before hopping up onto the windowseat again. She splayed her fingers against the panes and said, "He's _still_ there."

Kera let the shirt fall, the thread pooling. She knelt beside her sister and looked down at the yellow strand, noticed the drow walking the tideline, his long hair disheveled and wind-whipped.

_She should have known a request of this kind was coming. Four days now, Phaere had done nothing but goad him, and she knew he had been ordered to the arena again, and more than once. What had he done, she wondered, that was so terrible that he not be allowed to live? She knew the handmaidens owned the power to hand out death to any male they chose, but even so, Solaufein was regarded highly at the Guild, and fought well, and was his usefulness really worth exchanging for his death over some sardonic slight? _

_ This time, she paused and knocked. "Solaufein?" _

_ She heard footsteps, and the door opened. With a strange, anxious twinge, she realised that he was fully clad in armour, his sword still buckled on. _

_ "I was given leave to rest," he said curtly. "What is it?"_

_ She stepped inside, let the door click shut behind her. Rested one hand on her sword hilt. Was this what it was always like for drow, she wondered, walking into rooms with no notion of whether they would be walking out of them again? "What I have to say to you is very delicate. I'm not sure how to go about it."_

_ "Delicate? I've never heard it called _that_ before."_

_ "I'm not here for that." She swallowed. She moved away from him, slowly, until the table was between them. He had to have noticed her uncertainty, the way her shoulders were stiff, the way she was not quite looking at him. _

_ He followed her, and paused, feet braced. He was between her and the door, and when she made herself meet his eyes, she saw that he was gauging her the same way he had his opponents in the arena. _

_ "Phaere sent me to kill you, but I don't want to. I'm not going to." The words came out in a shuddering rush. _

_ "Then drop your sword."_

_ She shook her head. "No. Throw yours down, and I'll do the same." _

_ His hand flexed around his sword hilt. "Why did she send you?"_

_ "I don't know. She said it was on Matron Mother Ardulace's orders. That you be killed before they finish…whatever this is they're planning. That your insolence is too great to bear any longer."_

_ Something changed in his face, and his shoulders sagged. Viciously, he unsnapped the buckles on his sword belt, and threw it and the sheathed blade onto the table. "There."_

_ Kera did the same, finishing up with the two daggers. Turning her hands up, she stepped back from the table. "Why does she want you dead? What did you do?"_

_ "I…" His eyes flicked to the door. "Here," he said, motioning her across the room. "We must speak quietly."_

_ She sat cross-legged, with her back against the marble side of the bath, the drow very close to her. He tugged off his gloves, and his fingers twisted against each other, black and slender. _

_ "I…" He shook his head. "Phaere and I were lovers, once." His voice roughened, and he said, "It was a long time ago. Her mother…Ardulace felt that Phaere cared for me in a most…un-drow-like way. She had her daughter taken to the temple, and she had her tortured."_

_ "Tortured..?"_

_ "For many days. And when she came out, there was nothing left of her but her ambition, and her hatred. Nothing left except me, still alive to remind her of her failure," he said, and his voice cracked. "This was always going to happen. I simply did not know when." _

_ "Solaufein." She raised her hand to touch his, changed her mind, and shook her head instead. "I'm so sorry."_

_ "Why? You were not there. You are not me. You are…" He exhaled slowly. "I must ask, if you do not intend to try to kill me, do you intend to let me leave?" _

_ He thought she might warn the guards, the handmaidens, and that realization stung. "Where will you go?"_

_ "I don't know. Somewhere."_

_ "I will let you leave," she said. _

_ "What were you asked for as proof?"_

_ "Your piwawfi." _

_ "Of course," Solaufein said thickly. "Of course it would be that." _

_ He spun up to his feet, tugged his cloak down from its black pegs on the wall. Dark folds, woven through with the circling, beautiful patterns of spider silk. His hands clenched in the fabric, and he said, "She will be wanting blood." _

_ "Oh. Yes. If I cut my hand, then maybe…"_

_ Solaufein stared at her. "You are as poor a drow as I am, Veldrin. You apologise for being late, you offer to take on my tasks, and you hand me my life instead of my death." A strange, wondering sort of smile tugged at his mouth. "And now you forget that Matron Mother Ardulace would know my blood if she chose the right spell."_

_ She stared down at her hands, linked in her lap. "Yes." _

_ He crossed to the table, and she looked up in time to notice him choosing her dagger. "May I?"_

_ "Of course," she answered, and swallowed. It made sense – of course it made sense, in a terrible way, and it meant he would live and maybe even make it out of the city, but her gut roiled. _

_ Solaufein unfastened his armour, let the pieces fall. His shirt followed. He picked up the dagger again, and she saw his fingers trembling slightly. He hesitated a moment longer, and then drove the point into his upper arm. The breath hissed between his teeth, and he sketched the blade down to his elbow._

_ "Here." Kera passed the piwawfi across. _

_ He waited, the fabric blotting thick and dark with his blood. _

_ "That's enough," she said, softly. "Solaufein?" _

_ He peeled the cloak away. The gash on his arm was deep and still welling. _

_ "I think you overdid it. Do you have bandages in here?"_

_ His head tilted, but he did not complain. "In the chest. The small one."_

_ She found them beneath pots of salve and spools of fine thread. She found a clean square of cloth as well, used the water jug to soak it. "Give me your arm." _

_ Silently, Solaufein obeyed, the dripping piwawfi clamped in his other hand. _

_ Kera mopped the blood away and checked the edges of the cut. The sharp, metallic smell filled her mouth. "Neat, but far too deep," she commented to distract herself. "You don't have healing potions in here, do you?"_

_ "In the rooms of a disgraced commander?" He snorted. "What kind of city is Ched Nasad, that you would assume such a thing?" _

_ She said nothing, only wrapped the bandages around his arm, sharply tied off the knots. She pressed her fingertips against it, was pleased when very little blood blossomed through. "There. Try to keep it clean."_

_ "Why?" _

_ He did not mean the wound, and she knew that. "I…you're right," she said. She sank back onto her heels, leaned against the side of the bath again. _

_He left the dagger on the table, joined her. _

"_I'm not from Ched Nasad." _

_Solaufein's red eyes narrowed. _

_She drew in a steadying breath, prayed she had made the right choice, and murmured, "I'm not even a drow. I'm from the surface, and I'm human. My friends…we're all from the surface." _

"_You're not a drow."_

"_No." _

_He looked at her warily. "What magic is this?" _

"_The dragon, Adalon."_

"_Ah." Some of the tension in his frame relaxed. "I know of the dragon. And…I see. You are here for the eggs." _

"_Yes."_

"_You're not a drow," he said again, almost marveling. "Are you tall?"_

_She smiled, nervously. "No. I'm about this height." _

"_What colour is your hair?"_

"_Brown. My eyes are brown as well."_

"_Brown." He studied her face carefully. "This magic…this illusion. It is clever." _

"_Yes." Her throat was sandy, and she was very aware of how close he was, of the strange, predatory way he was scrutinizing her. "I trust that I will not walk out of here and into an invitation from Ardulace for a quiet, isolated meeting?"_

"_Now you seem more like a drow. No. No betrayal. Not from me. I am supposed to be dead, remember?" He did not look away from her. "I…have an idea, Veldrin. About the dragon eggs, if you would hear me out."_

"Hey," Imoen said, and nudged her again. "You awake in there?"

"I'm awake." Kera groaned. "Sorry."

"Come on." Imoen sprang off the windowseat. "Let's go downstairs. I'm still hungry, and I want to get there before Minsc eats everything."


	6. Written

_**Chapter Six – Written **_

Dusk closed over the courtyard, and torches were lit, and Kera allowed herself to be gently pestered into sparring with Valygar. As he had so many times, he guided her through a strict, punishing routine. She enjoyed it – she always had, the wordless motion and simplicity of it, the way the burning ache in her muscles would usher sleep in all the faster.

"Kera," Valygar said, softly. "Where are you?"

She spun the quarterstaff, raggedly parried. "Sorry."

She remembered a night in the forest, when thin, needling rain had made the fire smoulder, and she had sat and watched as the droplets scattered against her hands.

_"Come on," Valygar said. "Get yourself up and borrow Jaheira's quarterstaff."_

_ She blinked. "Why?"_

_ "Your timing is good but your footwork is sloppy. You were lucky today," he added, and meant how she had escaped the claws of a troll with a single, shallow gash across her shoulder. "You're good, but you need practice."_

_ She stared up into his face and wondered whether to be insulted or appreciative of his offer. "Ah…thanks. I think."_

_ Valygar smiled and pulled her up to her feet. "Come on." _

"Better," Valygar barked, when she spun and landed a clean blow against his leg. "You're tired."

"Yes." She straightened up, flicked loose hair out of her eyes. "I'm alright."

"We'll be leaving early tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"Then you need to get some sleep," he said.

"I will." She lunged at him, snarled when he deflected easily and stepped back, absorbing each stroke. She whirled, snapped past his guard, and grinned when the tip of the staff glanced against his chest. "Better?"

"Better." The corners of his mouth curled up. He looked past her shoulder, his dark eyes speculative. "Will you be joining us?"

Kera turned, and was almost unsurprised when she saw Solaufein, standing poised and watching from the steps. How long had he been there, she wondered, with that measured, thoughtful look on his face?

"If…there is no disagreement," Solaufein answered carefully.

Kera smiled. "Please, go ahead. I was about to do something stupid, I'm sure, so please feel free to distract Valygar while I recover."

He inclined his head. He shed his sheathed sword, and accepted the quarterstaff. Kera settled her shoulders against the wall and watched as he circled the ranger. The drow moved first, all liquid grace, and Valygar darted to block him. They spun across the courtyard, trading strokes. It was a dance, an exercise, Kera knew; neither the ranger nor the drow pressed too hard, or moved too fast, or jolted the smooth, back-and-forth rhythm.

Valygar stopped first, one hand held up and a small, pleased smile on his face. "You are very good."

"I've had a lot of practice."

The ranger nodded, and tossed his quarterstaff to Kera. "Supplies for tomorrow?"

"Jaheira's keeping Imoen busy with that."

"And you?"

She shrugged, dug her fingertips against the smooth wood. "I'll be fine."

Valygar regarded her a moment longer before making his way across the courtyard. She watched him until he disappeared through the high doors before turning back to Solaufein. "What is it?"

The drow shook his head. "Nothing. No, I mean…you spar often?"

"Nearly every day. It helps me sleep." She leaned against the wall beside him. "When I was much younger, I followed my father around begging for swordplay lessons."

"Your father?"

"The man who raised me. Raised me and Imoen. His name was Gorion."

"Where did you grow up?"

"Candlekeep," she said, and smiled. "It's a fortress, and a library, and a monastery. It looks over the sea."

"I was born in Ust Natha," Solaufein said, quietly. "I have never lived anywhere else. What happened to this man?"

"Gorion? He was killed." She drew in a steadying breath, a little surprised by how easily the words came. "He was killed by my brother."

"Your brother." Solaufein's eyes widened a fraction. "Such things happen within the great drow houses. This is…not so usual on the surface, is it?"

"No, it's not. He killed Gorion because he wanted to kill me. He wanted to…well, he wanted Bhaal's power. He wanted to take Bhaal's place, and that meant killing Bhaal's other children."

"What happened?"

"I killed him."

"I do not understand," Solaufein confessed. "There are many of these children? Like you?"

"Yes. I don't know how many." She leaned her head back against the wall and added, bitterly, "And it is written that we will cause chaos. For now, I would prefer to get my soul back, and then worry about what may or may not happen in the future."

"Irenicus," the drow said. "Do you know yet how you will kill him?"

"No. And I…" She shuddered. "I am afraid."

"Of how strong he might prove, or of what he did to you when you were captured?"

The breath hissed between her teeth, and she could not look at him. "No, I…yes. Because of that. I didn't _tell_ you about that." It spilled out, accusatory and loud, and she winced. "I'm sorry."

"No, you didn't tell me," he said, softly. "Kera, I have seen the scars on your hands and your neck and your face. They are not sword cuts…they are not the marks of combat at all. You were tortured."

She wanted to scream at him that there were others as well, under her clothes and crossing her skin, and how she only half-remembered how Irenicus had given them to her. "Yes. I was. We both were."

"When you face Irenicus, remember it. Remember everything you can," Solaufein said fiercely. "Remember it, and give it back to him, all of it, in your revenge."

"That simply?"

"No. Not that simply. But it must be done. You know this."

"We do what we must?"

He smiled, crookedly. "We do."

She turned her head, realised how close he was, his shoulder almost against hers, the angles of his face lost in the shadows.

She remembered waiting in the dark stone corridor, her palms slick with sweat, Phaere's false dragon eggs in the pack across her shoulders. _I will find you_, he had said. _Before you go the temple for Ardulace. _And yet, there she had stood, dithering, wondering if she was too close to the temple, wondering if he had been caught, killed, executed, imprisoned.

_Something moved in the darkness behind her. She whirled, unsheathing her sword in the same motion. Solaufein side-stepped easily, and whispered, "It's me."_

_ "Would it have been so hard to jump down in _front _of me?"_

_ "And increase the risk of you actually hurting me before recognizing me? This way you had to turn around first. Were you followed?"_

_ "No."_

_ "Come with me." He motioned with one hand, and led her down the corridor, through an old storeroom. Beyond, worn, slippery steps descended into another winding passageway, entirely lightless. _

_Kera's skin prickled; despite her borrowed drow eyes, she disliked the stifling press of the darkness. "Where is this place?"_

_ "Beneath the Fighters' Guild. I am sorry, but I do not trust the city streets."_

_ She nodded and followed him, stayed silent until he guided her into another small room, the stone shelves thick with dust. For a sudden, awful moment, she wondered if she was walking into some elaborate trap, and if perhaps she should have brought the others with her. _

_ "Here." He unslung his pack, held it out. "From what I have studied, they look as like silver dragon eggs as they can." _

_ "Something else has happened," Kera confessed. "I…Phaere called me to her rooms today."_

_ He stiffened. "Why?"_

_ "To give me her own clutch of false eggs."_

_ One side of Solaufein's mouth twitched. "Did she, indeed? She is most resourceful. So you are to plant hers in place of the real ones, and whatever Ardulace will use them for…they will fail."_

_ "A demon," she said. "She is going to call a demon." _

_ "A demon. I had not thought…Ardulace is mad, to think she can control one."_

_ "She doesn't want to control it. She wants to unleash it on Suldenessellar."_

_ "With the eggs as bribery."_

_ "Yes." She loosened the ties on his pack, reached inside. "Solaufein, if I let Phaere take these, if Ardulace is killed, then…"_

_ "I know," he said, whisper-quiet. "It will be the end of House Despana."_

_ "That's not what I meant."_

_ "I know what you meant. It…has to happen." _

_ She lifted the wrapped package out, deposited it alongside Phaere's own piece of trickery, inside her pack. "Where have you been hiding?"_

_ "Beneath the city. I should warn you now, if Ardulace calls this demon, and it is to go with the soldiers to the surface, leaving will not be easy for you, however it goes with House Despana." _

_ She turned her head and looked at him in the darkness. "Come with us."_

_ "With you? To help you escape?"_

_ "To escape _with_ us." _

_ "To the surface…" His face changed, lost some of its severity. "The surface. I have only ever seen the surface at night. I…why would you do this? What would you want in return?"_

_ "Nothing," she said, carefully. "Help us escape, and that is all. Once we reach the surface, you are welcome to remain with us, if you wish." _

_ "Yes." He smiled, properly. "Yes, I will. You need to go."_

_ "Yes." She did, but she found herself looking at him, at the way his hair spilled over his shoulders, braided at both temples. At how the darkness seemed to soften the ferocity in his red eyes. "Will you be alright?"_

_ "Yes. Thank you, Veldrin." _

"_Kera," she said. "My name is Kera." _

"_Kera," Solaufein repeated, slowly, as if testing the word. He did not look away from her. "You need to go."_

"Kera," Solaufein said. "What is it?"

"I was thinking…well, you have the advantage of still being able to see in the dark."

"Ah," he murmured. "Do you miss it?"

"Not really," she said, honestly. "It was strange to me. I understand the necessity of it, but I think my surfacer's mind kept trying to tell me that it was all wrong."

He stepped away from the wall, and the torchlight fell across him. "Is this better?"

She found herself smiling, and wondered why. "Much better."

"May I ask you something?"

"Yes. And you can stop asking whether you can ask or not. You don't have to."

He frowned. "I do not wish to speak out of turn."

"You don't," she said, gently. "Solaufein, you can ask whatever you want."

The frown deepened, as if she had just presented him with some intricate puzzle. "I wanted to ask if you might…spar with me sometime."

"Yes," she answered. "I will."

"I would like that."

The silence stretched, easy and patient, and Kera felt no inclination to speak. The drow moved, rested one shoulder against the wall again. His head stayed tilted out into the torchlight, and she let herself look at him, at the hollows beneath his cheekbones, at his unsmiling mouth.

"How did you kill your brother?"

"With a sword," she said. "It took a long time. It happened under a city called Baldur's Gate."

"I killed two of my brothers."

"How?"

"In the arena, and at the Fighters' Guild," he said, as blandly and as evenly as if he were explaining a morning stroll. "The first was a fight ordered by my mistress, the second an assassination attempt that went wrong. Went wrong for him."

"He tried to kill you?"

"He was asked to," Solaufein said, and shrugged. "His mistress ordered him to. He could not refuse and keep his life."

"Why would she choose someone related to you?"

"Why not?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. It just seems cruel."

"It is," he allowed, in the same tone. "But it _is_. What else is to be done?"

"Stay with us," she said, without thinking.

Solaufein's head lifted. He was looking at her, looking at her the same way he had in Ust Natha beneath the twisting streets, when they had been alone. "Yes," he said. "I…would like that."

She nodded, suddenly self-conscious. "I should go to sleep. Goodnight, Solaufein."

She turned away from him, very aware of how he had not moved, how he might still be watching her as she crossed the courtyard. She remembered slipping back to the guest chambers in the drow city, his cloak tucked under her arm, and hoping desperately that she had not been followed.

"_You…" Jaheira stared down at the crumpled piwawfi, still damp with Solaufein's blood. "Kera…"_

"_He's not dead," she hissed. "Gods above. Did you _really_ think I was going to do it? Really?" _

"_He may have pushed you to do it." _

"_He didn't."_

_From his idle sprawl in the windowseat, Haer'Dalis lifted his head. "No doubt a good thing, my raven. Would you have won a fight, fair or not, with yon darkling? I have seen him in the arena. He is…quite good."_

_Kera groaned. "Your support thrills me as ever." _

"_As it should, my raven."_

"_What now?" Jaheira asked. _

"_Now I need to find Phaere."_

_She did, and the drow female was alone, her swords slung across her shoulders, her whole frame rigid as she quartered the floor. She whipped around as the door opened, and snapped, "What happened?"_

_Kera halted. "He's dead." _

_She held out the piwawfi, and saw something in Phaere's face change. _

"_He…Solaufein is dead?" Her eyes, crimson and thickly lashed, hardened. "Yes. He is dead. Of course."_

_Kera passed the piwawfi across, Solaufein's blood clinging to her fingers. _

"_How did it happen?"_

"_Do you need to know?" Kera responded, a little startled at her own vehemence. "He is dead, and I have done as you asked. There is little more to say on the matter."_

"_Yes." Phaere's hands clenched tight on the piwawfi. "Yes. You're right."  
_

In the silence of her room, Kera crawled under the sheets. But sleep escaped her for a long time, and when she finally succumbed, her dreams were strange and full of shadows.

* * *

_There were trees, and the trees were wreathed in flame. Blood spilled on ancient branches, and too many lay dead. Watching, detached and exhausted, Kera _knew_ that she saw a dream that was both real and not. She had seen them before, where the world was blurred and full of half-truths. _

_ This was the elven city, and she knew because of a woman's voice in her ears, soft and lilting and persuasive. High white temples to the Leaflord toppling between pillars of smoke, and drow, bolting beneath the twisting black columns. The woman's voice begged her to come, come save the city, despite her blood, despite her birthright. Come save the city and be rid of the one who had demanded its destruction. _

_ In the dream, Kera writhed. She lashed out against the woman's insistence, and snarled something back, something vicious and angry. _

_ The trees crumbled, and she saw the stone walls of Candlekeep again. _

_ The walls of Candlekeep as they had never been while she and Imoen lived there. Blackness rose between the carefully-clipped grass and the curving stone bridge that lead to the library. She looked down, saw that the darkness was speckled with stars, and closed her eyes. _

_ This was how it had been in Spellhold, when she had fled from Bhaal and into the cool shadows of Candlekeep, and found the thing she had thought was Imoen. _

Kera woke, sweat clinging to her face and her hands and her heart pounding wildly. The room was dark and chill. She wondered if Imoen had dreamed the same things, had seen the tall trees of Suldenessellar awash in red flame.

_"Candlekeep?" Imoen shook her head slowly. She sank down, her back against the pillar. "Kera, no. I didn't see…"_

_ "Great holes in the ground. And when I looked down into them, there were stars."_

_ "No. I didn't see anything."_

_ "But you helped me," she said, and her voice faltered. "I _saw_ you. You were there. You called me inside, away from Bhaal."_

_ "No," Imoen said again. "Kera, it wasn't me. I wasn't…when he did it to me, I didn't see anything."_

_ "Nothing?"_

_ "Blackness. Nothing. No sounds, nothing. I'm sorry." _

She unearthed her boots, discarded just under the bed. She pulled them on, and a heavy tunic. The corridor was barely lit, and her footfalls sounded harsh and loud. She paused outside Imoen's room, listened. For a long moment she wished that she might hear something, laughter, or her sister badgering Jaheira, or even the sound of a whetstone against a blade or something equally practical.

"Imoen? Imoen, are you awake?"

She heard nothing, no reply, so she turned away, and carried on down the corridor, towards the steps that led down into the courtyard.


	7. Storm Clouds

_As always, Bioware owns nearly everything, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Seven – Storm Clouds**_

Before the sun climbed above the wall of the guildhouse, Kera swung her pack onto her shoulders. She had slept a little after forcing herself away from the empty courtyard and back up into the room and under the rumpled covers. She remembered almost nothing of her dreams, and she supposed she should be grateful for such small mercies.

She farewelled Aran Linvail at the gates, shook his hand, told him she would miss him a little, and meant it.

Once the high towers and gleaming domes of the city fell behind, they made good time across the scrubby brushland. Marching over uneven ground and through deep, sloshing puddles, Kera kept her hand on her sword hilt and her gaze fixed firmly ahead. Somewhere behind, she heard their voices, Haer'Dalis teasing Minsc, and Imoen laughing quietly. Jaheira commenting upon some mix of herbs for poultices, and Valygar quietly agreeing.

Three days at a brisk, unforgiving pace took them into the deep swathe of the forest and away from the merchant roads. The fourth day brought cold, biting wind and rippling grey clouds, and Kera knelt over the campfire and swore at it when it flared miserably and died under her hands.

Imoen crouched next to her. "Can I help?"

"Can't do any worse than I have."

She spread pale, slender hands, murmured something soft. Red light snapped out from her fingertips, and the wood burst into flame.

"You're getting good at that," Kera said, softly.

Imoen smiled, and it lit her face. "Thanks."

"I'm just remembering the time you shot some spell at Gorion and nearly blasted his hat into burning pieces."

Imoen groaned. "Thanks."

The night closed in, heavy and dark, the clouds churning above. Kera discovered Solaufein staring at the trees, at the way the wind snapped and tore at the branches.

"Solaufein?"

He flinched, and whirled round. "It feels odd."

His shoulders were rigid, she noticed, his face severe. "What feels odd? The wind?"

"The air," he said. "It feels…impatient."

She nodded. She could feel it as well, the restlessness in the grey clouds, in the charged sky overhead. "Feels like a storm playing up."

"I have heard of such things," Solaufein confessed. "I had seen rain before this, but not often."

"When did you first see the surface?"

"I was quite young. Ust Natha has the…privilege of being rather close to the surface. I was sent with a raiding party."

"What happened?"

He was silent for a long moment, the wind tugging and plucking at the thick fall of his hair. "They were elves, and somewhat unprepared. We were drow, and planned to kill them, and we did."

A branch snapped, too close, and Solaufein spun.

"It's alright," Kera said, gently.

"Yes," he said. He was breathing too hard, and his eyes were narrowed. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry."

"What was it like, when you were first in the Underdark?"

"Confusing," she admitted. "Even before the dragon's spell. Everything was wrong. I couldn't see anything properly, and using too much light just gave us away. The sounds were all wrong."

"Wrong?" Solaufein's head tilted towards her. "How?"

"It was all too quiet, and the sound carried all wrong. I never realised before how loud my own feet can sound. That must sound stupid."

"No," he said softly. "No, it doesn't."

* * *

_In Kera's dream, the trees flamed. She saw them falling, the elves, cut down beneath drow swords and the fierce blaze of magic. Their blood ran thick and red on the pale wood and stone of the city, and when she swallowed, she could taste it. She tried to wrench herself away, tried to shake the smell of it out of her mouth and her head. _

_ She saw a bedroom, white and pristine and beautiful, and a man and a woman. _

_ Her name was Ellesime. _

_ She was young and she was an elf and she was exquisite. Ropes of blonde hair pinned above the delicate points of her ears. She wore the soft green of the forest, and when she smiled, Kera knew. Knew how she burned for a man, an elven man, and how she knew his body and his thoughts and his hopes. _

_She saw them wrapped around each other, sighing into each other's mouths with each slow, lingering kiss. His hands cupping her face, his lips tracing her eyelids. Ellesime's head buried against his shoulder, his chest strewn with her wheatsheaf hair. _

_ His name was Joneleth. _

Kera woke. The tent was swathed in shadows, and she saw the Queen of Suldenessellar again, smiling in ebullient abandon as she kissed the man she loved. She made herself listen to the sounds of the night, heard pattering rain and the insistent scream of the wind. She pressed her hands against her face.

"Joneleth," she whispered. From her lips, the beautiful name fell hollow and strange. "His name is Joneleth."

* * *

The morning brought ragged gusts of wind and a damp chill that curled its way into her bones. She huddled beneath her cape, wrestling with her gloves while Minsc doused the fire and Imoen shivered beneath her own layers. She set a punishingly fast pace over the sliding, wet ground until the stiffness in her ankles and her fingers vanished.

They marched under the grey, rippling clouds until Jaheira called out for a halt, and Kera noticed how the light had seeped away.

"Tomorrow," Jaheira said when she opened her mouth to complain. "We'll cover the ground too slowly in this weather."

"Yes, but…"

"We'll not make it until half the night's through," Jaheira told her firmly. "I do not think it wise to try and get into Suldenessellar at night, do you?"

Kera thought of the drow bribed into Irenicus' service, and muttered, "No. You're right."

But even so, she remembered the dream, and the trees all wrapped in flames, and the air full of the scent of death. She turned away, slinging her pack against the flat edge of a boulder. Jaheira was right, of _course_ she was right, but some terrible coiling part of her wanted nothing more than to push on through the forest until she found Elhan again, and demand that he open the way to Suldenessellar and Irenicus.

"Tomorrow," Solaufein said from behind her. "We will reach the city in daylight, do you think?"

"Yes. Around midday, I suppose, if we move on at dawn. And if nothing happens."

"Do you know how drow fight? On the surface, I mean?"

She leaned against the boulder. "I know how they fight in the Underdark."

"That's different." He paused, thinking, and added, "When we're on the surface, we feel vulnerable. Even at night, even raiding by our own choice, we feel vulnerable."

"I thought drow didn't know _how_ to feel vulnerable," she snapped, and almost immediately regretted it. "I'm sorry. I didn't…I'm tired, and I want…"

"You want your soul," he said evenly. "Do you wish to be alone?"

"No." She scrubbed the back of one hand across her eyes. "What were you going to say?"

"We are very aware of when we're…somewhere we shouldn't be. The drow with Irenicus, they will be frantic. Not afraid, but fighting as if they have to, to keep breathing. Does that…make any sense?"

"Yes. It does. Will you be alright?"

"While fighting drow that I might know, or while walking into an elven city?"

"Both."

"I will be fine." He stared down at his boots, black and caked with mud. "We are taught to strike for the throat, and the ankles, and to end up behind an opponent wherever possible. Some of us are assassins, and those are the ones you never see. Keep your weight balanced, and light."

"Solaufein, why are you telling me this?"

"Because you need to survive long enough to kill Irenicus, and that might mean fighting drow." His gaze lifted. "I'm sorry. You know these things already."

"I didn't mean it like that," she said. "And…thank you."

Wordlessly, he nodded. He grasped the ties in his hair, and grimaced when he discovered the leather hopelessly knotted and damp with mud. He yanked, and winced.

"Wait," Kera said. "Let me."

He went very still when her fingers brushed the narrow braids. Carefully, she worked the first knot loose. She moved her attention to the other side of his head, and found his hair in an even worse state. "Stay still. I don't want to hurt you."

"You're not hurting me."

She coaxed the last knot apart. "Well, I don't want to rip your hair out, either." Almost without thinking, she touched the thick white strands where they lay across his temple, tousled and creased and in need of a good soaking. "You're filthy."

"So are you," he responded, and smiled.

She pressed the leather ties into his hands. "Yes, but you have white hair, so it looks much worse."

For a brief, uncertain moment, she wondered if she had pushed too far, if she had managed to turn a bad joke into an insult.

But Solaufein only laughed, quietly. "Worse? I suppose it does. I don't usually have anything to compare it to."

* * *

Between the pine trees, the path wound between the low, round boulders. Brisk wind buffeted the low branches, and rain blew in thick gusts. Matching pace with Valygar, Kera peered ahead, saw that the trail dropped down the slant of a hill. She knew Elhan's camp lay not far ahead, and she had no wish to find herself skewered by some overly enthusiastic scout, so she ordered the others forward with instructions to walk a little louder, and keep hands away from weapons. Soft footfalls were all the warning she had, before she saw the flicker of drawn swords, and someone snapped out, "Foreigner? You return?"

She dug her fingers into her palms. "Yes." She turned, saw one of the elven scouts, slender and coiled and wary. "Take me to Elhan."

"Your weapons," he began.

Kera wrapped a hand around her sword hilt. "Take me to Elhan. _Now_."

The elf hesitated a moment longer, and nodded. "Come with me."

They discovered the camp almost entirely cleared, the tents folded down and packed away, the scouts and soldiers standing pacing and waiting. Others patrolled the edges of the pine trees, their faces set and taut. Elhan knelt with three of his scouts, his eyes flickering as he checked the fletching on arrows. He turned, pushing up from his knees with a tired sigh. "Ah. My scouts were right. Have you been successful?"

"Yes," Kera answered. "Bodhi is dead. She went as all vampires tend to, when staked in their coffins."

The elf's expression did not flicker. "Indeed. You fought well, then. You have the Lanthorn, yes?"

"Yes." She made no move to unsling her pack. "She said some interesting things, before she died."

"Did she," Elhan said, in the same neutral tone.

"She and Irenicus…they are related, aren't they?"

"Are they?"

Kera swallowed. "Stop dancing," she snapped. "You _knew_ she was a vampire."

"As did you," he remarked. "A secret that we both shared, it seems."

"Irenicus doesn't just want death and destruction, does he? He wants revenge for something."

Elhan's face whitened. "Revenge? No, I…what makes you think these things?"

"Irenicus and his sister were punished, weren't they? They did something, something terrible to your city or to your queen, and they were punished?" Her heart was thudding painfully behind her ribs, and she was aware of the elves looking at her, turning to watch her. The words spilled out regardless, angry and exhausted and goading. "Something so shameful you had to _lie to me_ when I agreed to find the Rhynn Lanthorn. Irenicus has hurt me terribly, hurt me and my sister, and he was able to do that because of what _you_ did to him, wasn't he?"

"No," Elhan said. "You know some of what you speak, foreigner, and not nearly enough. He is the exile. They were both the exiles."

"What did they do?"

"It is not for me to say." His dark eyes were furious. "Listen to me. There is no time. If you have the Lanthorn, you must give it to me."

"I know his name was Joneleth, once."

The breath hissed between the elf's clenched teeth. "_Joneleth_," he spat. "Where would you have heard such a name?"

_In a dream,_ she thought, and said nothing.

"It does not matter," Elhan said heavily. "All that matters is the Lanthorn. For my city, and for your revenge."

He was right, and she swung her pack off her shoulders. Reached inside, and tugged out the wrapped Lanthorn. "Here."

Elhan gingerly peeled the wrappings away. Reverently, he gazed down at it, at its soft whorled markings and delicate glass panes. "My soldiers need a few moments," he said, quietly and without looking up. "Are you ready?"

"Yes. Let us know when you want to move."

Kera turned away from him then, the anger still lodged inside her, and the impatience turning her mouth dry. Imoen's fingers brushed her arm, and she jumped. "What is it?"

Imoen grasped her elbow, steered her away from the others. "You know his name? His real name?"

She pulled away. "Yes."

"How?"

"I dreamed it."

"You dreamed it." Beneath the disheveled shock of her hair, Imoen was pale. "What else have you dreamed that you haven't mentioned?"

"I dreamed it the night before last," Kera whispered. "I dreamed of him, as he was."

Imoen's mouth moved soundlessly before she asked, "What…what did he look like?"

"Imoen."

"Please."

"He was beautiful," she said, and could not quite look at her sister. "He was beautiful, and he was the lover of the Queen of Suldenessellar."

Imoen's face twisted. "Queen Ellesime, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"What did he do, anyway? You didn't happen to dream that as well, did you?"

"I don't know."

Imoen's hands laced together. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I know."

"When we get there, can I help you?"

"We'll see," Kera said, guardedly. "I want you safe."

"Safe?" Imoen's lips curled into a sardonic smile before she said, "Yes. I know. I just…"

"You have your soul," Kera said, the words crashing out before she could stop them. "You already have it back. What more do you want, Imoen?"

"I…" She shook her head. "Nothing."

* * *

Kera followed Elhan's light, measured footfalls through ferns and up past the ancient whorls of a gnarled ash. Here, far into the forest, the shadows were deep and green. Damp earth and clean air and the breeze, stirring through her hair, and yet she could not shake away the anger that coiled, somewhere inside.

She remembered venturing beneath Baldur's Gate, sword in hand and her whole body trembling.

So certain that she would not – could not – leave alive. How could she, with Sarevok waiting for her?

_ "Kera," Jaheira said, gently. "We are with you."_

_ She nodded and tried to find her voice. When she failed, she fumbled for Jaheira's hand and squeezed hard. Imoen was with her as well, whispering that it was going to be alright, it had to be alright, because she was not allowed to die, and if she did, she would be in trouble. _

_ She stepped under the archway and across the cold grey stone and saw him. _

_ Her brother. _

It had taken far too long, she recalled, a fight that was less a fight and more a frantic whirl of motion.

_She hit the floor, hard, both knees jolting. Blood plastered one side of her face. Her left arm was numb to the elbow, her other hand slippery around her sword hilt. _ _She rolled away madly, heard the thudding noise of Sarevok's sword as it bit into the floor. _

_ She had barely looked at him, at his face, since she had charged at him. He was all armour and blade, silver and grey, and she could smell the heat of his blood. _

_ Bhaal's blood, trapped in her brother's body. _

"Here," Elhan said, and Kera snapped out of her thoughts.

She looked to the Lanthorn, at how it hung from its delicate chain in his hands. Behind the panes, soft light glowed.

"It is here," the elf said. He lifted the Lanthorn, and the light spilled across the gnarled bark of the trees, brushing aside the shadows. "I can feel it."

Silently, between one breath and the next, the forest _changed._

Kera saw steps, carved and smooth and gleaming, rising up around the broad trunk of the tree. Higher up, she saw white stone and pale lights and she wondered if the elven city was as large and as beautiful as the stories claimed.

"Now," Elhan said, quietly. "We do this as planned. Agreed?"

"Yes." Herself and Elhan to lead, she remembered, her friends behind, and the elven scouts flanking.

"Very well. Are you ready?"

_No_, she thought. _No. Not at all. _"I'm ready."

Elhan moved first, stepping onto the gleaming stairs with easy, cat-footed grace. Kera followed, narrowing her eyes when she peered through the arching branches. Sword held low, she kept walking, looking past the elf's narrow shoulder.

"Do you hear that?" Solaufein murmured.

She paused, and heard only her own heartbeat, and the rustling leaves, and the footsteps of the scouts behind them. She shook her head, but the breeze stilled, and she heard it. Metal on metal and running feet and the frenetic whine of magic.

"Yes," she said. "I hear it."

Elhan motioned her on, and she complied. The drow matched pace alongside her, his face tight and drawn as he glided up the elven steps. The stairway curved, spiraling around the towering height of the tree. Solaufein's head was down, but she noticed how his gaze kept flicking to the brink of the steps and the drop beneath. Without speaking, she slid between him and the edge.

The wind shifted, flattening the leaves. Somewhere above, Irenicus waited, and she wondered if he knew she had come, knew that she had killed his sister, or if he even cared. Kera smelled blood and smoke, and knew that Suldenessellar was falling.


	8. The Shattered One

_As always, I claim almost no ownership of the characters and the setting. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Eight – The Shattered One**_

Suldenessellar burned. Thick dark plumes rolled up from smoking towers and high arches and tall stone spires. Beneath Kera's feet, the platform shone with blood. She gulped down a quick breath. The air was full of noise, shouts and screams and pleading, the frenzied panic of a battle that sounded to be more of an ambush.

Beside her, Elhan's face was ashen. "The palace," he said. "You will need to get into the palace."

"What's in the palace?"

"The queen," he snarled back at her. "She will be there, and that is where the exile will be."

Light flared above the curving arches of the branches. Another spell followed, trailing sparks and thudding into a high white wall.

"Please," Elhan said. "The palace, foreigner."

"What do I need to know?"

"He will be at the Tree," the elf said, his voice harried and thin. "The Tree is inside the palace."

"The Tree of Life," Jaheira cut across him. "Why would he go to the Tree? To destroy it?"

Elhan shook his head. "No, I…the queen. To get to the queen." He spun, barked out an order to his scouts.

He was lying, she thought, either by omission or design, but she needed to get to Irenicus, whatever his plans for the city. She nodded, slowly, watched as the elven scouts fanned out across the white platform. "What will you do?"

"There have to be survivors," he said. "And even where there are not, there will be drow."

Jaheira caught her elbow. "The palace is on the far side of the city."

"You know how to get there?"

She nodded. "We need to move quickly, and quietly, and draw as little attention as possible."

Kera gripped her sword hilt. "We've already talked about this."

Jaheira's dark gaze swept over her, raking. "I know."

Kera inclined her head at Elhan again, and then she was stepping away from him, leading the others across the platform and towards the high towers beyond. She breathed in and tasted smoke and spent magic. She glanced back, saw how Valygar and Minsc had flanked Imoen, and she smiled slightly.

They discovered the high white towers pitted and cracked and streaming smoke. Beyond, a stone plaza extended between the curving swirls of ancient branches, and for one idle moment, Kera wondered what magic helped the city stand, wood and stone merged and strong together.

Jaheira set a quick, furtive pace, keeping to the shadows of the towering trees, and ducking behind rippling walls of flame and down deserted, narrow stairways. More than once, she waved them still, and Kera listened to feet pounding on stone, and the ragged, gasping noises of combat. Pressed against a low wall, she heard something large lumbering past, and she wondered what else the drow had brought with them from Ust Natha.

The stairs swung down and around, littered with dead elves, fallen drow among them. A shadow swooped under the archway at the bottom, and Solaufein held up one hand. Silently, he glided past Jaheira. Two soundless strides took him further, and Kera saw him launch himself through the archway.

Without thinking, she flew after him.

"Kera, wait!"

She ignored the voice. Another step, and she was under the archway. She saw Solaufein first, spinning past a drow's shoulder. His sword snapped up, cutting in low and past the drow's flailing riposte. The point bit through studded leather, and the drow toppled.

She took another moment to count three more drow, and she hurled herself at them. The first one met her head-on, and his shoulder smacked into hers. She staggered, recovered her footing. Past his shoulder, she noticed Solaufein, his sword buried in the second drow's stomach, the third circling him.

She swung under his guard and pushed off again, twisting past him. He whipped around, following her as fast. She struck out blindly, and her blade clanged against his left bracer.

Solaufein darted past her, his sword thick with blood. He kicked out the back of the drow's knees. A single, scything blow took the drow's head off, and he turned, his eyes blazing angrily.

"We agreed," he said flatly. "We agreed that _I_ would take small groups of drow on their own."

"Yes, we did."

"We agreed that they might let down their guard, enough for me to finish them quickly."

"Yes." Kera raked loose hair out of her eyes. She glanced past him, saw both of the other drow, sprawled out and lifeless. "Yes. I know we did."

He stared at her, bewildered. "I don't understand."

She shrugged, not quite able to look at him. She wanted to ask if he had known them, the drow he had killed, if had known their names. "I'm sorry. I didn't think."

"Kera?" Jaheira approached from the steps. "Are you ready to move on?"

She nodded, and stepped away from the drow. "I'm ready."

* * *

Another plaza, thick with debris and the reek of carnage, gave way to spiraling stairs. Here, the clamour of battle was closer, louder, and more than a few times, they stayed huddled behind huge broken chunks of stone, listening desperately as swords met. Other times, Kera sat crouched with her shoulders pressed against low, crumbling walls, waiting while Solaufein flitted on ahead. Tipping her head on one side and straining to hear as he hewed his way through whatever group of drow waited beyond. Twice, he returned bleeding, and the third time, she ordered Minsc and Haer'Dalis with him.

Past white temples, and stone benches and dropped lanterns, their panes crushed and scattered. Behind a toppled slab, they found two elves, the first bleeding from a deep, welling wound on her thigh. Jaheira patched her up with spells and briskly-wrapped bandages, and quite firmly ordered them to find somewhere safer to hide. They found others, frightened and injured and hiding in the small, winding streets behind a temple. Most of them were thin and filthy, and Kera wondered how long they had lasted. _We should have come sooner_, she thought, but she said nothing.

A hurried march down steep steps took them past a high, pale wall, and Jaheira nodded. "There," she whispered. "The royal palace is on the other side."

"What's around the front?" Valygar asked.

"A square. Wide, and likely to be busy." Jaheira frowned. "I'd prefer our chances staying back here."

Kera nodded, and followed the druid. She reached out, touched the smooth wall with one gloved hand. Her shoulder ached, and when she licked at her lips, she tasted salt. She looked down at her hands, and saw with curious detachment that her grip on her sword was unerringly steady.

Small white gates led into gardens that had once been immaculately tended. Gravel paths cut between lush swathes of lawn, and tall willows rustled. Beyond the high walls at the far end, she saw plumes of smoke, and the dark, unsettling shape of something with wings before it fluttered behind a spire.

"Why's it so quiet in here?" Imoen murmured.

Kera shook her head. " I don't know."

Tall glass doors gave way to a deserted corridor, and the emptiness lasted until the next corner opened onto a dining room, and an ambush. A dozen drow, and Minsc's mace swept two aside almost instantly. With her shoulder against Solaufein's, Kera carved through to her own target, and the sudden, bright spill of blood assailed her.

_Irenicus,_ she thought, fiercely.

Viciously, she yanked her sword out of the drow's collapsing body, looked up to see the others checking for wounds and cleaning weapons.

More drow waited in the corridors beyond, and they fell as quickly. Kera spun under the harsh light of a spell, slammed her pommel against a drow's throat. Followed up when he staggered and drove her sword into his chest. She gave the hilt a sharp tug, and the blade grated against bone. She swore, yanked harder, and ended up kicking the drow forcibly off the sword.

"Kera." Very carefully, Solaufein's fingers brushed the back of her forearm. "You're moving too fast."

"What?"

"You're not watching yourself," he said, as cautiously. "You're moving too fast and leaving yourself open."

"No, I…" She scowled, and knew he was right. But it seemed so easy, to let her own impetus carry her, to let each wild footfall take her closer to the sound of metal sinking into flesh. "You _said_ to keep moving."

"I said to keep moving, and lightly, not so fast all it will take to gut you is one single drow with better reflexes." His head tilted. "You're bleeding."

She swiped at the thin trickle of blood on her cheek. "I'm fine."

* * *

The walls were burnished wood, and she heard the sound of water, rushing across rocks. Drow blood coated her sword, thick and dark. Another shallow slice crossed her shoulder. Behind her, she could hear Jaheira murmuring as she healed the ugly puncture wound on Valygar's leg. Soft lights burned on the walls here, and when she stepped under the archway, she saw a pool, glittering between grey stones. Slender statues curved above the rippling surface, their faces stern and sad, their hands meeting over the water. She reached out, touched the damp rock. "He's here, somewhere."

"This is the way to the Tree," Jaheira said briskly. "Past the water, and through the wood, and the wood becomes the Tree."

The Tree of Life, she remembered, that grew at the heart of Suldenessellar and gave the city is power and its beauty and its breathing link to the Seldarine.

And here she stood, drow blood falling in thick drops from her sword and her hands, and nothing in her thoughts past vengeance.

"Kera?" Jaheira smiled, a little sadly. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. Wordlessly, she stepped around the edge of the pool, past where the water seemed to trap the white light in trembling reflection. She lifted her hand again, touched the soft, warm wood, and when she pushed, her fingers slid through.

Something in the air changed, gently and silently, and she found herself looking down at the whorled surface of some huge branch.

For a long, faltering moment, she stared, saw that the branch curled out into soft greyness, that heavy, lush leaves fanned down from above. She breathed in, and tasted the damp warmth of a forest.

Jaheira's hand closed over her shoulder, and she murmured, "Kera. We have to go."

She nodded again, and made herself step forward. Her feet touched the uneven bark, her boots clogged with mud and grime. She hesitated a moment longer, and looked back to where the drow stood, his shoulders tight and his eyes slitted. "Solaufein?"

"This is…elven magic?"

"Yes. I don't understand it either."

"Oh." He exhaled, sharply. "Forgive me."

She shook her head, and forced herself onward. Four steps took her to where the branch dipped, and when she glanced behind, there was no pool, and no small arched room, hidden behind the queen's throne room.

There was only the Tree, and its branches, and the sound of the wind through the leaves.

_Irenicus_.

He was here, somewhere, somewhere near the heart of the Tree, somewhere hidden among its curling, twining branches.

_How did she know that? _

She shook herself and kept moving, almost flinching when the branch swayed gently beneath her. Something fluttered, and she stopped, peering fiercely upwards. She nothing but the green leaves, dense and star-shaped.

"Keep going," Solaufein muttered over her shoulder.

She shifted a little to one side, slowed her pace so she could walk beside him. He was prowling, moving as if he expected an attack, and she could not blame him. In the pale light, his face was all hard angles, and when the wind tousled the branches above, his hand tightened on his sword.

_But he is here_, Kera thought, and allowed herself a small smile.

Underfoot, the branch coiled past others, curving down and under the green spray of the leaves. She chose the smaller of three that split off at the far end, and somehow knew she had made the right choice.

"_He is hurting the Tree…"_

The whisper was sudden and unexpected, and she shivered. The woman's voice, the woman from her dreams, and she knew it must be Ellesime.

Ellesime, Queen of Suldenessellar, who had once loved an elf named Joneleth.

"_He is _hurting_ the Tree. Hurry."_

The wind ruffled the leaves again, and Kera kept moving, following the spiraling surface of the branch as it descended.

"_He wishes to have its power for his own again. Please. _Hurry_. He is hurting the Tree."_

She closed her eyes, and wanted to scream back at Ellesime that she _was_ hurrying, was walking as fast as could through this unsettling, beautiful green maze. The branch sloped down and past some huge towering part of the Tree that might have been the trunk, but she was not sure.

"_Please..!"_

The woman's voice wavered, and Kera doubled her pace. She stumbled over a whorled knot in the wood, and Solaufein caught her elbow, wordlessly steadied her. Ahead, she could see how the twisting branches arched above them, and the wood underfoot spread, plunging down before flattening out. She made it halfway down the steep slope, and stopped.

_Irenicus_.

She tried to move, found that every limb felt trapped in ice. She remembered his masked face leaning over her, his blue eyes blazing as she woke, his slender hands on her bare skin.

_Irenicus. _

He stood with his back to her, his hands splayed against the curve of the branch in front of him. His head was tilted back, and she could see his whole frame shuddering with each slow breath.

"Kera," Solaufein murmured. "Remember what I said."

_Remember it and give it back to him, all of it, in your revenge._

"Yes," Kera said. "I do remember."

Irenicus did not move. His fingers were sunk into the wood, his spine stiff. Somehow, she dragged her gaze away from him, and across the flat surface of the branch, to where the Queen of Suldenessellar sat.

Ropes on her wrists, and her arms wrenched behind her back. Her green gown was askew, and bruises showed through at her shoulders and her throat. Her coiffure was missing pins, and hung in loose golden loops around her ears.

Kera faltered. She wanted to turn around and look at Imoen, to see that her sister was with her, was going to step down there with her, and face him.

Solaufein caught her hand, and squeezed hard. "You have to," he said.

She swallowed, and stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the branch until she made it down the slope. She found her voice, and called out, "Irenicus?"

Ellesime's head turned, and her eyes creased gratefully, but he did not stir.

Kera advanced, raised her sword. "Joneleth?"

Irenicus spun, his hands wrenching out of the Tree. "You," he breathed. "You live, yet?"

"_Ah. The Child of Bhaal has awoken."_

The eyes were the same, cold and blue and brilliant, and Kera trembled. She remembered Spellhold, and how she realised, finally realised, that the man with the whispering voice and the deep cowl was _not_ the asylum's caretaker, and never had been. She remembered Yoshimo's face, crumpling in remorse, and the sleep that had taken her.

_She woke, and her fingers brushed something soft and smooth. She opened her eyes properly, and noted first that her weapons were missing, her boots off. She sat up, gingerly, and discovered that her leggings were gone as well, and her mouth was dry. In front of her was glass, curving and thick, and her fingertips slid across it when she touched it. _

"Yes," Kera said. "I live."

Irenicus' face rippled, or his mask did, but the eyes did not change. "You survived Spellhold and the Underdark, then."

"Yes." She was stalling and she knew it, but the breath had locked up in her throat, and she could not make herself move forward. "Your sister is dead."

"Ah. A pity." His voice was the same, incisive and direct as cut glass, and just as cold. "Then _your_ sister has possession of her soul."

"Yes."

Irenicus regarded her, slowly and methodically. "And you are here for yours. You have but a fraction of yourself within you, and yet you are here. Such strange tenacity, child. You will die here, and you will not be remembered for it, and I will have my revenge."

Kera opened her mouth, tried to snarl something back. She had managed – _almost_ – at Spellhold, but here, amid the fluttering leaves, words failed her.

"No, Joneleth," Ellesime said, softly. "You shall not."

An odd smile flickered over his mouth. "Ellesime?"

The elven queen stood, awkwardly, and Jaheira steadied her, her hands going immediately to the elf's shoulders.

"Yes," she said. "You will not do this. Not again, Joneleth."

His face twisted. "Do not call me that. I lost all right to that name when you and your followers had me stripped of everything in me in that was elven."

"Your revenge has broken you," Ellesime said softly. "Do you remember nothing? How you were here, with the Tree, once, and it touched you? Do not remember it? Do you not remember us?"

"I do not remember your love, Ellesime," Irenicus said. "I have tried."

_Yes_, Kera thought, and understood suddenly. He had tried. He had created her, again and again and again, pale and lifeless figures kept in glass jars, their staring eyes always green and lovely, their straggling hair fanned out in the water and flaxen. It made sense, now, dreadful sense; the room with the bed and its rich silken covers, the mahogany chests with their whorled, elven patterns, the hanging tapestries woven with bright hunting scenes, the books with their old tales of forests and bards and lovers.

"It is gone," Irenicus said in the same tone. "I have tried, and it is gone, along with everything else. I clung to it, Ellesime. For so long I clung to it, but it has become a hollow, dead thing."

He was staring at the elf queen, his eyes unblinking and icy, and Kera knew she had to do something. She looked at his hands, splayed and scarred, and at his face, hidden.

"Jaheira," Kera snapped, and threw herself forward.

She had imagined this moment too many times; it had dogged her dreams and jolted her to waking before and after her terrible failure at Spellhold.

She barely registered it as Jaheira sliced apart the ropes that kept Ellesime's hands twisted behind her back.

She ploughed shoulder-first into Irenicus, and again felt the whipcord, frightening strength in his lean frame. He shoved back at her, some incantation already falling from his lips, and she fell. Ungainly and startled, she hit the ground, and gasped. White light seared overhead, and she heard Imoen cry out.

_No_, Kera thought, and forced herself back onto her feet. She was aware of Solaufein beside her, his sword unsheathed, and his face set and grim. Valygar swept in on her other side. Another spell spat from Irenicus' clenched hands, and Valygar stumbled. The sheeting cold that followed spun past Kera's head, and she heard Haer'Dalis swear aloud. She ducked under another, and saw Jaheira as she hurried the elf queen away.

"She flees," Irenicus said. "She would see you left to face me alone, it seems."

Kera wanted to scream back at him that it was not like that, not at all, but the words dried up in her mouth. As fast, another spell tore away from his hands, and slammed solidly against Solaufein's chest. The drow staggered, eyes narrowing, and another two steps took him back to her side. Minsc darted past Valygar, and the lunging sweep of his mace cracked against Irenicus' shoulder. Kera saw him falter, saw how the relentless follow-up with the mace drove him back a pace. She shouted Haer'Dalis' name, and he dived behind Irenicus, his swords flicking out.

Irenicus spun, both hands cupped around flame. The tiefling rolled away madly, and Minsc's mace thudded against Irenicus' spine.

Kera saw his knees buckle, and some strange elation flooded her.

_He was wavering_, she thought. _And that meant he could be brought down. _

Minsc swung again, and again, and again, and Irenicus toppled. But even as his knees hit the ground, his fingers flared white. Haer'Dalis' right-hand sword sliced across his upraised arm. The haft of Minsc's mace sank into his back, and Irenicus whirled around, halfway to his feet.

The spell snapped out from his hands, and Minsc dropped, his face twisting in pain. Kera smelled burned skin, and something in her mind went flat and angry.

She hurled herself at Irenicus again, and her sword found purchase against his shoulder. The point dug in and slanted deeper, and he stiffened. She wrenched the blade free and kept moving, and smiled when Solaufein cannoned into his other side. Haer'Dalis dived in again, and slashed both swords across the back of Irenicus' legs. He whirled around, and the spell that snapped from his hands sent the tiefling reeling. He turned back, and met Solaufein's sword. The blade dipped beneath his hands and sank into his chest. Still moving, the drow pushed on past him, yanking the hilt of his sword along with him.

Kera saw those blue eyes narrow, and she leaped. Solaufein's sword ripped clear of Irenicus' body, and he swayed.

She crashed into him, and let the momentum carry them both down. Irenicus was under her, his whole frame rigid, and he reached up with both hands. Viciously, Solaufein wrenched his right arm back, heaved until bone gave way.

"You," Irenicus said, softly, his breath whistling through his lips. "How do you keep moving? After Spellhold, after everything?"

_He's not shocked,_ Kera thought, and a prickle of suspicion chased down her spine. _Not shocked, or surprised, or afraid._

She stared down into his blue eyes and remembered the confusion, that day she had awoken in his cage. Awoken to bars that were rusted and splashed with her own blood, and she had wondered how it happened, since she could not recall.

_They had been travelling, sharing stories, meandering down some old trail through the forest. Imoen poking fun at Dynaheir, and Kera bothering Minsc for stories of Rashemen, and Khalid whispering something to Jaheira. _

Something had happened, and when she woke in the cage, she could not remember it.

"I don't know," Kera said, and drove her sword into his throat.

His blood was hot and bright, and when it flooded across her hands, she watched it. She dragged the blade out of his throat. She stared down at him, at the half-closed blue eyes, at the way he did not move.

"Kera?" Solaufein crouched beside her. "Kera."

When she did not respond, he clasped her hand and drew her to her feet. "I'm here," she said. Without looking away from Irenicus, she said, "Imoen?"

"Yes, Kera?"

"Imoen, what did you feel? When I killed Bodhi, what did you feel?"

"I felt…right," her sister answered. "Whole. I just knew."

"I don't feel anything." She knelt again, and tugged her gloves off. She reached out, and touched the blood that spilled across the tree. The smell of it, thick and rich and metallic, filled her head. She lifted her hand, rubbed Irenicus' blood between her fingers.

"Kera," Jaheira said, carefully. "What are you doing?"

She turned her head. She opened her mouth to tell Jaheira that it was alright, that it must be over, when something swept across her, something that tugged and pulled insistently and painfully, and she saw nothing more.


	9. The Tears of Bhaal

_As always, a huge thank-you to everyone who is following this story. I own almost nothing, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Nine – The Tears of Bhaal**_

There was cold stone beneath her, and her sudden, indrawn breath sounded too loud. Slowly, carefully, Kera pushed up to her knees. Her sword was still clenched in one bruised hand. She saw nothing past the undulating dark stone beneath her feet, and the pale light above, grey and wan and sickly. She made it all the way up, and swayed. Her skull pounded, the roar of her blood heady and deafening.

_Where was this place, _she wondered, _with its endless shadows and its air that tasted like hot steel?_

"Ah, little sister. You are awake."

She knew that voice, and it sent fear coiling through her gut. "Sarevok," she said, and turned slowly.

He was close to her, close enough that she had to suppress the urge to leap away from him. He was tall and brawny, slabbed with muscle. Golden eyes bright in a scarred, strong face. He carried no weapons, and his heavy shoulders were not encased in armour, and she wondered why.

"Yes," her brother said. "Are you surprised?"

"That depends," she answered, and somehow her voice stayed steady. "Where are we?"

"Since I am here before you, breathing, where do you think?" He smiled slowly. "This is no place for the living, usually, little sister."

"Where am I?"

"This is a place of our father's. A place inside your own mind. A place _created_ by your own mind."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean this place is shaped by your own thoughts, and it is our father's blood in you that gives you this power."

She studied him for a long, wary moment. "Then are you really here, or have I conjured you up?"

"Both, and neither." He grinned, bitten-off and venomous. "You are dead, little sister. As dead as I am."

"No, I…" She faltered, the words drying up in her mouth. "No. I…we…we can't be."

"Why not?"

"We were fighting Irenicus, and…" She stopped. "We killed him, and my soul came here."

"Your soul?" Sarevok's grin widened. "Little sister. What _have_ you been up to?"

"A mage took my soul for his own."

"But your soul belongs to Bhaal," her brother said. "Don't you know that?"

Kera looked at him, properly looked at him, at the old lines of scars that criss-crossed his face and disappeared under his collar. "Why would I dream you up?"

"Perhaps you didn't."

"Now _that _is more what I would expect from you." She scrubbed a hand through her hair, and winced when her fingers snagged on thick tangles. "Where is this, really?"

"A plane, of sorts. One that perhaps belonged to Bhaal, long ago, or was dreamed by Bhaal." Sarevok shrugged. "Perhaps we are all here, all of us Bhaalspawn who are dead."

"I'm _not_ dead. Irenicus is dead. I saw him fall. I cut his throat."

"Cut his throat, did you? You did that to me as well, little sister. Do you remember?"

_Sarevok fell, his solid frame crashing against the ground. _

_She looked down at him, exhausted, every breath jerking through her. Blood dripped from the ugly gash across her chest, and her shoulder throbbed. But she brushed Jaheira away, and knelt beside her brother. She reached out and tugged his helmet off, revealing the hard angles of his face, bathed in sweat. His golden eyes were narrow and furious. _

_She let the tip of her sword rest against the hollow of his throat. _

"_Kera," Sarevok said, quietly. "My sister."_

_She leaned her whole weight against the hilt, did not stop until she felt the blade shear through bone. _

"Though," Sarevok said casually, "I suppose what you did to me was more of a beheading. Do you remember?"

"Yes," she spat out through clenched teeth. "Of course I remember." She looked past him, saw nothing but greyness, unraveling. "Where are my friends?"

"I don't know. Here, somewhere. Somewhere on their own."

"How can I find them?"

"This place is our father's," he said, and something cold wound through his voice. "Let the blood in you that is his help you and guide you."

"No_._"

"Let the blood help you," Sarevok said. "Let it guide you through this place to your friends."

"_No_."

"Come now, sister. You are lost. You could run until your legs give out, and you will not find a way out of this place. Not unless you give in to it."

"No!" She shouted it, at Sarevok and at the anger coiling inside her. "No," she said again. "I will not, and unless you're going to help me, get out of my way before I relieve you of your head again."

"Quite the spine you have now, sister." He smiled again, cold and goading. "You are not quite the child I faced, are you? You know how it feels now, don't you? That infernal wrath of ours?"

"It is not _ours_," Kera snarled. "It is _yours_, and I want nothing more to do with it."

She pushed past him, and bit the inside of her cheek when she heard him laughing. Beneath her, her boots thudded against the smooth stone floor. She wanted to spin around and drive her sword into him until he fell again.

_Keep moving_, she thought. _Keep moving. _

She marched on, over the rolling dark stone, until sweat slicked her hair to her face. The air pressed too close, stifling and hot. She stumbled more than once, wincing when her knees smacked hard against the ground. Sheathed at her hip, her sword was heavy, the blade still fouled with blood, and she could smell it. She could smell Irenicus and his death on it.

Kera stopped. What was it Sarevok had said? _This place is shaped by your own thoughts?_

She wanted to find the others. She _needed_ to find the others.

She reached out, pushed her hand through the greyness, and touched cold stone.

A gateway, she realised, high stone doors reaching up into mist. Swirling patterns descended, eyes and wings and glittering jewels and feathers. She leaned up, let her fingertips trail down past some shining white gem. On either side of the doors, water ran, slithering and falling and collecting in small white pools. She knelt, cupped her hand in the water, and smelled salt.

"This is called the Gate of the Watchers," Imoen said.

She whirled, spattering icy water. "Are you real?"

"I think so. I _feel_ real. I saw Gorion," her sister added. "He looked so sad."

"I saw Sarevok." Kera frowned. "How do you know about the Gate?"

"Gorion told me," Imoen snapped. "He said it will open, and it will be our way back."

"What else did he say?"

"That he was sorry for keeping secrets." Imoen shrugged. Her lips were pressed together, white and thin. "And he said that the tears are in the door."

"The tears?" Kera stared down at her wet hands. "Whose tears?"

"Bhaal's." Imoen smiled strangely. "Death causes many tears to fall, and Bhaal collected many in his time."

Kera caught her sister's hand and squeezed. "Come on," she said, fiercely. "We need to find the others."

"How did you find me?"

"I…" She shook her head slowly. "I realised how much I wanted to find you."

* * *

The cold stone jutted up into high, rough spars. Somewhere behind them, the Gate was lost in the greyness, and Kera tried not to wonder what might happen if they lost all sense of direction. _No_, she thought. _We _can't_ get lost in here. It's part of us. _

"Kera," Imoen murmured. "Look."

She shook herself out of her thoughts and followed Imoen's gaze.

Huddled in between two spearing columns of stone was Solaufein, his eyes closed and his hands locked together.

"Stay there," Kera whispered back to her sister. Very carefully, not quite trusting the stone or the forge-fire air, or even the presence of the drow, she approached him. "Solaufein? Solaufein, it's me. It's Kera."

His eyes opened, red and confused. "Kera?" His pulse was thumping at his throat, and his shoulders were pressed hard against the stone behind him. "No. I was…I was back in Ust Natha."

"No," she said gently. "You're with me, here. You're not dead. You're not in Ust Natha."

"Where is this place?"

"Somewhere. A plane that belonged to Bhaal."

Unsteadily, the drow pushed up to his feet. He stared at her for a long moment. "You found me," he said, wonderingly. "How?"

"I wanted to," she answered, and saw him smile.

* * *

In a place where the stone was red and twisted and curled into strange shapes, they discovered Jaheira and Minsc. The druid spun around, her eyes angry and her face pale and pinched. "Where have you been?"

"Looking for you," Kera retorted, a little too sharply. When Jaheira's expression did not soften, she added, "I'm sorry."

"No." Jaheira shook her head. "No. It is not your fault. I…we saw things. Both of us. I…tried to lead us out, but…"

"The walls here change," Minsc said, close to a whisper. "We looked for you and we could not find you. We have…never seen a place like this one."

"No," Kera murmured. "Neither have I."

"Irenicus is in here?" Jaheira asked.

"Yes. Somewhere."

"Through the door," Imoen said. "He has to be."

In his own maze, Kera wondered, or simply waiting? He would be alone, she assumed, so perhaps he merely gathered his strength and prepared. He _had_ to know, he had to know that she was here with him, that she could not leave without her soul.

Underfoot, the stone changed, became ragged and rough, and she tripped. Imoen caught her elbow, and she grinned tiredly in response. She needed to find Valygar and Haer'Dalis, and soon. Cold sweat prickled at the nape of her neck, and when she turned around, she half expected to see Sarevok again, or the Gate.

"There you are, my raven," said the tiefling, with an insouciant smile. "Been wandering, have we?"

"Been looking for _you_, actually," she replied acidly.

"Oh? A kindness indeed. Back in the planes, I see, and the hard way, it seems. Still, I know how such places breathe." Haer'Dalis shrugged. "I was seeking you out, and I happened upon our ranger friend, as lost as you."

She looked past the tiefling's wiry shoulder, and noticed Valygar, though she was almost certain that Haer'Dalis had been alone. She nodded slowly. "Alright. Then we need to find Irenicus, and get ourselves out of here."

* * *

The Gate of the Watchers stood before her, the white gemstones bright and fierce. Almost thoughtfully, Kera reached up and traced her fingers around one, following its tapering shape. The jewel was smooth and cold. There were others, beside and below it, too many to count.

_How many had fallen beneath Bhaal's rage? _

_ And how had it felt, to see them fall, to feel their deaths?_

She shook herself. The thought was not – _could not be_ – her own.

She found another gemstone, and let her fingertips slide over it. It was quite beautiful, the surface unblemished and slick. Someone spoke her name, and she shook her head again. Let her fingers trail across the door, looking for a seam, an indentation, something that would tell her that the door could be opened. Someone else said something, and she heard raised voices, close to an argument.

_Of course it can_, she thought. _I made it. I put it here. I kept it closed until I found the others. I kept it closed, kept Irenicus on the other side until we were ready. _

"Kera," Solaufein said into her ear. "Kera, can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," she answered, without turning. "Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

"The door."

"Kera." He stepped around in front of her. "Look at me."

_How had it felt, all those deaths, their spent lives flooding and filling Bhaal's flesh? _

"I am looking at you." But she was not, she was looking over his shoulder at the white jewels, at how they shone, wet and bright. She wanted to reach past him, and touch them, and bring the taste of them between her lips.

"You're not." Firmly, the drow moved again, so that he blocked her view. "Look at me."

She did, eventually, into the stern angles of his face. "I am."

"You need to open the door," he said, carefully, slowly. "You need to open the door."

She reached past him, and flattened her hand against the door. She felt stone and seeping coldness and something old. _Had Bhaal made this door first? Had he caused it to come into being as some kind of memorial, _she wondered, _some kind of notched post for all the death he had brought about? _

Solaufein did not move. "Open the door, Kera."

She needed it open and she needed to find Irenicus and she needed her soul.

The door swung wide, silently, and the white jewels flickered. She clenched her teeth and tried to suppress the sudden urge to touch them again, to see if she could carve them clear of the stone. She reached out, and Solaufein caught her wrist.

"You found me," he said, his voice pitched low. "You found me and you opened the door. We need to move, Kera. _Now_."

She wanted to ask him what he meant, but his grip on her wrist was punishing, and when she looked up and through the door, she saw Irenicus.

"You are here," Irenicus said. "I have been searching for you. I would ask why you are here, but this place is yours, is it not?"

"No. It's not mine."

"Yours, your sire's, your blood's." He shrugged. "I have been thinking on your soul. It knows so much, here. It knows what it should be."

"It should be with me_._" She tried to step back, and realised that Solaufein still grasped her wrist. It was almost painful, but when he shifted to let her go, she grabbed his hand and held on.

"No," Irenicus said. "It is the soul of something that is part divine, and that is not something you are worthy of, I think, even with all your tenacity." His blue eyes flicked past her, and his smile widened. "And your companions came with you. Did they want to, I wonder? Did you ask them? Or did all your terrible, god-sent blood drag them down here because you know you would fail alone?"

"We're not dead," Kera snapped. "I will take my soul back from you, and you will be lost down here."

"Not dead? Perhaps not. Such things are treacherous, aren't they, child? Who is to say that you have not been mistaken for dead in Suldenessellar? Who is to say that you are not dead?"

_No,_ she thought. _I killed him. I cut his throat and watched his blood spill._

"So what is it to be, Child of Bhaal? Will you fail, now? Or would you prefer to be shown to your death?"

She could not quite force her tongue to work properly, so she flung herself at him. His clenched hands flared, and the spell sent her flailing away from him. She twisted over, let Jaheira haul her back up to her feet. She saw him hurl Valygar away, and then he _changed_.

His frame shifted, seem to buckle and give, become shapeless somehow.

Appalled, Kera watched as stiff spines and sharp spars jutted out through his skin. His head arced back, and a terrible, wordless cry wrenched from his lips. She knew what it meant when he grew, when every tendon and muscle lengthened, when claws sprouted through the ends of his fingers.

_The Slayer_, she thought, and stared up into its sunken, burning eyes. _The Slayer. _

He must have learned its shape and its purpose from her soul.

The jaws of the creature opened, and its narrow head turned and fixed on her. She knew what it felt like, to be trapped behind those sharp lines of bone, to be locked inside it.

It was ferocity given form, death given shape, and it was Bhaal's.

"Kera, move!" Solaufein leaped past her. He uncoiled off his feet, swinging his sword at the Slayer's shoulder. The blade glanced off thick bone plates, and a brisk sweep of huge claws sent the drow sprawling.

_How,_ she thought, _how were they meant to kill it? _

In Spellhold, when pressed, Jaheira had confessed only that they had fled until the change took her again, and the Slayer and its anger left her.

Minsc's mace smacked hard against the Slayer's left arm, and Valygar pushed in on the right, his sword skimming in and under and scraping across its ribs. Kera threw herself at it, digging the point of her blade under the frill of spikes at the throat. Her feet were off the floor, braced against it, and when it spun, her head lurched. Minsc bellowed something angry, and his mace drove against the back of its knees. She tried to drag her sword free, and the Slayer howled. The claws sank into her waist and heaved her away.

She landed awkwardly, gasping. Rolled away when the Slayer followed her, pushed up to her feet. She whirled, brought her sword up to block the vicious sweep of the claws. "Minsc!"

He obeyed, diving behind and sending his mace snapping relentlessly against the Slayer's legs. Valygar darted in on the other side, Haer'Dalis close beside him.

The Slayer turned again, and the spined tail whipped out, sent the ranger to his knees.

Kera gauged the distance, and snapped, "Solaufein, help keep him busy."

The drow nodded, and slipped past Jaheira to where Minsc stood, methodically hammering his mace against the Slayer's chest, Haer'Dalis on his other side.

She _knew_ the Slayer, knew how it felt to breathe through its fanged mouth and look through its eyes. She knew how ponderous it was to first move with its heavy, long claws and its spiked tail. She knew how it could absorb blow after blow, how the sheer strength in it was frightening. She knew how tempting it was within its frame to simply sit back and let it take over, let its claws and its fury do what they could.

Kera launched herself at the Slayer's back, felt it sway when her boots ground against the sharp, jutting ribs. She hooked one arm over its shoulder and held on while it thrashed. The head flung back, and the wild sweep of the claws tore Haer'Dalis over onto his back. Another rush pushed Minsc to one side, and the Slayer reached out for Solaufein.

She fumbled with her sword, tried to angle the blade beneath the cluster of spines at the Slayer's neck.

The drow's sword cracked against the Slayer's left arm. He rolled away, ducked under the follow-up strike of the claws. He spun, brought his sword sharply beneath the Slayer's grasp, and between its ribs.

The Slayer shrieked, and Kera saw the claws as they twisted past the drow's sword, and lodged in his shoulder. She drove her sword into the Slayer's neck, wrenched when the tip touched bone. Dark blood slicked her hands, and she bent her head to the Slayer's neck. The dreadful wound smelled of sun-heated rock and new steel and safety.

_No_, she thought, and jerked away. The motion jolted her off the Slayer's back, and she fell. She flipped over onto her back, leaned up on her elbows in time to see the Slayer wavering.

The stiff line of its shoulders was changing, blurring, the reptilian, severe shape of its face sinking in on itself.

It was changing, she realised. Changing at last, and back into Irenicus' lean, narrow shape.

He was bleeding, she saw first, bleeding in great gouts from the wound at the back of his neck. His blue eyes swiveled, and his mouth moved, and he said, "You."

"Yes," she said, and grasped his shoulder with one hand. "It's over."

She drove the sword into his chest, and held him when his knees gave way. His shoulder lolled against hers, and his breathing came fast and harsh against her neck. She could smell his blood, rich and wonderful, and when she scrabbled for a better handhold against his shoulder, it dampened her fingers.

"Kera," Jaheira said. "Kera. Child. Kera, it's over. Let him go."

She stared at Irenicus' face, eyes half closed, unmoving. The blood flowing past her hand was thick and warm, but no breath stirred between his lips.

"It's over," Jaheira said again. "Let him go."

Very carefully, she lowered him to the ground. Beneath his leathers, his chest was still, the ugly wound gaping and red. _Joneleth_, she thought, and said nothing. She knelt, and touched his face, touched his mask, just beneath his eyes.

And she felt it, her soul.

It was right, and simple, and between breaths, and it filled her.

"Oh." She smiled. It was beneath her skin, slipping into that empty place.

Imoen's hand found hers. "Do you feel it?"

"Yes." Her smile widened. "Oh, yes. I feel it."

Imoen nudged her gently. "So you know how to get out of here, then?"

For a long moment, she stared at Irenicus, at his closed eyes. She remembered how she had shied back in the cage that first day – or at least, the first day she remembered – and tried to swallow back the surge of fear. She remembered how brilliant his eyes had seemed, and she wondered again who he had once been.

"I think so," she said, and turned. "Is everyone alright?"

Jaheira was already at Valygar's side, murmuring some spell while he cradled his arm. She looked across to Solaufein, and swallowed. Blood welled through deep, jagged marks, circling his shoulder, and his whole frame was tense.

"Are you alright?" Kera asked.

"He'll be alright," Jaheira replied. "He needs a healer, and fast."

She wanted to go to him, but they were still trapped, and they needed to be out, and back in Suldenessellar. She thought of it, thought of it until every nerve in her ached, and when the blackness swept across her, she reached for him.


	10. Aftermath

_As always, I own little, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Ten – Aftermath **_

She lay there, unmoving, her skin like wax against the curves of the pillows behind her head. Her hands were clasped on the sheets. Unbound and combed out, her hair mantled her shoulders.

Solaufein knotted his hands together and ignored the ache in his knees. He had been at her bedside for uncounted hours already, watching her pale skin as she slept as if dead. The elven healers were adamant that she was alive, and yes, a faint pulse did flutter like a trapped bird at her throat. But they said her skin was so cold, and her chest barely seemed to rise or fall, and nothing could stir her. She did not move, and he did not know whether she dreamed, or was lost in some other plane, or if her soul – so newly reclaimed - simply waited for its moment to depart.

He supposed he should have been sitting in the chair, or at the windowseat, or perhaps pacing as he had some short while ago. Instead, he knelt, his own hands locked together on the covers, and he watched her. More than once, he had wondered if he should try to wake her. But that would mean touching her, and she could not agree to such a thing if she was asleep, so he had not dared.

His shoulder ached, the circle of new scars beneath his shirt stitched and awaiting another healing from Jaheira.

_He woke, breathing in air that was clean. He blinked rapidly, and saw the pale, elegant features of some male elf above him as he pulled back. _

_ "He's awake."_

_ "Good," came the reply, and he recognized Jaheira's firm tones. "Sit him up carefully. How is his shoulder?"_

_ "Stitched, and with little bleeding." Cautiously, the elf slid an arm beneath his shoulders and guided him upright. _

_ He made himself look around, saw white walls and open air beyond an open casement. He was half-naked, the sheets pooling at his waist, and someone had cleaned him and unraveled the ties in his hair. _

_ "Solaufein." The bed dipped, and he saw Jaheira's fierce profile as she sat beside him. "How do you feel?"_

_ "I'm fine."_

_ "You're not," she said, wryly. "You need rest, and sleep, like all of us."_

_ He wanted to ask how Kera was, whether she was awake and breathing. He remembered the place that was Bhaal's, and how she had found him there. _

_ "She's alive," Jaheira told him, almost immediately. "She's asleep, though. I've tried waking her, but…" She shrugged, helplessly. "Everyone else is alright."_

_ The druid told him that the city was saved, emptied of enemies, and that the queen had called council in the palace, and declared them all heroes, and that they were to be welcomed and helped. _

_ "You have free passage through the city," Jaheira said. _

_ "I'm sure you'll forgive me if I do not test the queen's generosity." _

_ One side of the woman's mouth slanted up. "Of course."_

Solaufein stared down at his linked hands, his wrists hidden by the wide cuffs on the white shirt the elves had given him. The clothes felt strange, the cut of the shirt and the dark leggings beneath unusual. Pale thread wound across edges and cuffs and collar, and he could not quite stop plucking at the laces. The fabric smelled clean and new, and he knew he should probably be grateful, but his shoulders prickled.

He had been outside, more than once, in Valygar's company and then in Jaheira's, and he had noticed the way the elves had watched him. He could not blame them, and supposed he was lucky he had been allowed to keep his weapons, or indeed allowed to live outright.

_This is not Ust Natha_, he thought.

He dragged his gaze away, and up the rumpled spill of the white sheets, to Kera's laced fingers. Scarred and delicate, and rather small, he noted.

How strange it had been, he recalled, to stand in the dragon's cave, and see the spell wrenched aside.

_They were surfacers, after all, and some strange anticipation ran through him. They had _not _lied, at least about this, and their allegiance with the dragon. There was a girl, skinny and coltish, and a woman with the slightly pointed ears of her peredhel ancestry. Two men, both of them tall and thick with muscle, and the carefully-held build of those who knew their way around weapons, and well. A tiefling, slender and wiry and with his beautiful face decorated with odd, sloping marks. _

_ And Veldrin – Kera, he reminded himself, her name was Kera - close enough to his own height that he could look straight into her brown eyes. _

_ "You weren't lying," he said, and smiled slightly._

_ "About?"_

_ "Your eyes, your hair." He tipped his head to one side, studied her. Studied the lean shape beneath the leathers, the way her brown hair was twisted back into a single braid. "You weren't lying."_

_ "No," she answered. "Did you think I was?"_

_ "No." He shook his head. "No. I meant…forgive me."_

_ The corners of her mouth curled up. "Of course."_

_ She turned around then, and introduced her companions with names that rolled foreign and awkward off his tongue when he repeated them. The other girl was her sister, he understood, though they looked nothing alike. _

He pushed up to his feet, ignored the twinge that ran all the way down the back of his legs. He quartered the room again, and twice more, until he found himself at the windowseat. He curled up on it, and stared down at the arching green branches below. The frame was open, and he could smell the rich, damp scents of the forest.

How curious, he thought, that the late arrival of strangers from Ched Nasad had turned into this.

_"Commander Solaufein?"_

_ He turned slowly, and found himself looking into the red eyes of a young-looking female, her face fierce beneath loose wisps of white hair. "You're the scouting party from Ched Nasad, yes?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "You're late," he said, and did not bother to conceal the sneer in his voice. "As if I do not have enough to accomplish in a day without watching out for the welfare of fools."_

_ Something flashed in her eyes, something very close to defiance. Not anger, and he wondered why. _

_ "Then tell me what you would have me do," she said. "And stop wasting your own time."_

_ He laughed, coldly. "You _have_ a spine, then? Good. It may prove useful. Now, you need to listen to me."_

And she had, he recalled, listened silently and well with her companions beside her, while he had told her that they must venture out, and past the caves, and past the high archway that lead to the beholder nest, and ambush Phaere's captors. There they had waited, and the ilithid and their umber hulk escorts had fallen.

_Veldrin turned, her sword dripping, and one side of her face crusted with blood. "All of them?"_

_ "Yes." He nodded back to her, and let himself look across the dark stone to where Phaere stood, her head tilted back and her beautiful red eyes narrowed. _

_ "Solaufein," she said. "Matron Mother Ardulace thought to send you, did she?"_

_ "She did."_

_ "A pity. Who is your companion?"_

_ "Veldrin, recently of Ched Nasad." He swallowed the strange, acrid taste in his mouth. "Veldrin, this is Phaere, daughter of Matron Mother Ardulace, and heir to House Despana." _

_ "A foreigner?" Phaere smiled. "How very interesting."_

Solaufein shook himself, and looked out through the casement, to where the wind ruffled the leaves. The trees moved too much, he thought, almost distracting in the way they rippled. He supposed that must be why raiding parties were almost always sent on nights when the moon sank behind the clouds and the wind was still.

Beneath the far-off cries of some bird that he could not name, he heard the blankets rustle. He turned, and could not quite hide his smile when he saw her eyes open, brown and drowsy. "Kera?" he asked gently.

Her head turned, and she blinked slowly. "Solaufein? I didn't see you."

"I did not want to startle you." He slid off the windowseat and approached the bed. "You've been asleep a long time."

"How long?"

"Nearly three days."

"Oh. Do I look as awful as I feel?"

"How do you feel?"

"Dreadful," she said. "Like I want to die."

"You look…very tired."

"How very diplomatic," she said, and smiled.

"It's true."

She levered herself upright on the pillows and grimaced. "Three days?"

"Yes. Do you remember it?"

"I remember Irenicus falling." Her head came up sharply. "Your shoulder?"

"Is fine," he answered mildly. "Stitched and healed. Though your friend Jaheira has threatened to have yet another look at it today."

Kera grinned. "I'd let her, if I were you."

"I intend to."

Silence fell, and he found himself staring down at some point between his boots. The floor was polished wood, and he could hear the wind at the open casement.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Stop hovering." She leaned forward, patted the sheets. "Sit down."

He obeyed cautiously, staying a respectful distance from her and keeping both hands in plain view. "What else do you remember?"

"I remember how the water at the gates tasted," she said quietly. "Very cold and full of salt."

"The gates with the jewels."

"Yes."

He hesitated a moment longer, and asked, "Has anything…had you been there before?"

"No," she said. Her hands twisted together on the sheets, thin and pale. "At least, I don't think so. I've had strange dreams before, and when Irenicus took my soul, I went somewhere, but it wasn't there."

He nodded. "I did not mean to…"

"No," she said quickly. "I know." She slumped back against the pillows again. "How is it I can sleep for so long and still be tired?"

"I think you've been running for a long time," he said.

She smiled, a tiny movement at the corners of her mouth. "I think you're right."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course you can. You're also not allowed to ask that again."

He stopped, ran her words through his head again, and laughed. "Should we come to some agreement?"

"I think we should."

"As you would have it, then. I wanted to ask how Irenicus captured you and your friends."

"It was a long time ago. We'd left Baldur's Gate, and we didn't know where we wanted to go." Her smile turned strange and sad. "We'd been travelling for some weeks, the six of us, and we were ambushed. It was quick and quiet, and to this day all I remember is walking past a tree and feeling someone's arm go around my neck. They knew what to do, whoever they were. Four of us made it out, and I still don't know how long we were there, in that dungeon with him."

"Four of you?"

"Minsc's witch, Dynaheir, was with us then. Irenicus killed her in front of me." She shrugged, and he saw her gaze flicking away. "Jaheira's husband Khalid was with us as well. He was killed."

"Kera."

"It's alright," she said. She tipped her head back, and her eyes closed, and it made her skin look like wet paper, fragile and exhausted. "Would you mind very much if I went back to sleep?"

"No, not at all. I'll leave you alone."

"No, I didn't mean…" She shook her head. She reached out, and her fingers brushed the back of his hand. "Would you stay? Please?"

Whatever he wanted to say dried up in his throat. "Yes," he answered. "Of course I'll stay."

She turned over, burrowed half under the covers, and he heard her sigh. Her breathing steadied, and he wondered what she dreamed, or if she saw only the patient, welcome darkness of peaceful sleep.

He remembered the terrible place that was Bhaal's, and how he stood beside her at the door. And how she had gazed at it, and even when Jaheira called her name twice, three times, she had not stirred.

"_She can't hear me." Jaheira's voice wavered. "She can't…Solaufein."_

_He spun around. "What?"_

"_Talk to her."_

"_What?"_

"_Talk to her," the woman said again. "She can't hear me. We need to get through that door. Talk to her, and make her hear you."_

_He reached out for Kera's shoulder, changed his mind, and leaned in instead, close enough that he could smell the blood that clung to her hair, and the sweat and desperation beneath. "Kera. Kera, can you hear me?"_

* * *

When she woke again, she saw late afternoon sunlight, and Solaufein, sitting cross-legged at the end of the bed, and fixedly staring at his own wrists. "You stayed," she said.

His fingers played across his cuff laces again, flicking and twisting the ends. "You asked me to."

"What are you doing?"

"I am trying to understand what it is that I find so unusual about these." He tugged the laces sharply. "They feel strange."

"Because they were made by elves?"

"Probably." He smiled then, and shrugged. "After everything, it seems a foolish thing to notice."

"Perhaps," she said mildly. "Are you alright?"

"About being here?" When she nodded, he said, "I must admit it feels unsettling. I am a drow, and I am sitting here in an elven city, and _I know_ that I have been part of raiding parties sent against the elves who live here. But I have been given surety that I am to be looked at as the same as any of your companions, and then I remember that you survived Ust Natha, and it seems rather weak of me."

"No," she said. "It's not."

She sat up, and realised that the insistent, dull ache in her back had vanished. She breathed in slowly, and let herself smile. She watched as he knotted and loosened the laces again, his fingers agile and fast. A knock at the door scattered her thoughts, and she muttered, "Come in."

An elf stepped over the threshold, inclined his head. "Forgive me for disturbing you, my lady."

She shook her head a little awkwardly. "No, not at all. What is it?"

"Queen Ellesime requests an audience, if you feel up to it. If not, I am sure the queen will understand."

"No, that's alright. Please tell the queen I will be there shortly."

The elf's gaze flitted across to the drow before he bowed again. "I will escort you when you are ready, then."

The door closed, and Kera sighed. "Well. I suppose I should see what her Majesty wants."

"To express her gratitude, I imagine," Solaufein remarked. "As well she should. I will leave you to get dressed, then."

"Solaufein? Thank you for staying."

"You are welcome." He paused near the door, and a small smile played across his mouth. "I do not think I have ever seen your hair down before."

Before she could think up a suitable reply, he slipped through the door and left her alone. Silently, she chided herself for being foolish, and kicked the sheets aside. The long white nightdress brushed the cool floor. In the chest near the windowseat, she discovered clean clothes, and slowly pulled them on. Her own sword and belt she found close to the door, and she buckled them on. In the high, arched corridor outside, the elf waited for her. He nodded to her, and said, "Please, this way."

She followed him through the twisting, empty passageways. The wind from the forest stirred through high, open windows. Instead of choosing the way to the throne room, the elf led her up a wide set of steps, swirling and pale, and to the queen's chambers. He motioned her past the guards, and on, under the last archway.

Ellesime sat at the windowseat, her rich green gown a cry of colour against the white stone. She turned, and smiled. "Ah. There you are. Please, come in. Sit down."

"Thank you." She obeyed, sat opposite, curling herself on a cushion. She was aware of the male elf retreating, and the sunlight flooding onto the floor, and the queen's green eyes.

"How are you?"

"Better," she answered. "Thank you for your hospitality, your Majesty."

Ellesime laughed gently. "It seems a poor reward for the salvation of my city. Your name is Kera, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then please accept my most heartfelt thanks for your part in this."

Anger jolted through her, and she tried to force it away. "You are most welcome, your Majesty."

"Please, no need for such formality." Ellesime lifted an elegant, ringed hand. "Wine?"

"Thank you."

"I must ask you, though…" Pale wine poured from the neck of a decanter. "Why was it you were chosen?"

"By Irenicus, you mean?" Kera said. She saw the queen's expression flicker, barely, a small tightening around her eyes. "I suspect you know. My sister and I were chosen by him and _his_ sister because we share a rather unfortunate heritage."

Ellesime passed a filled glass across. "You are Bhaalspawn, are you not?"

"That's right."

"Chosen for your power," she mused. "Or something else?"

"Chosen because our souls would keep them strong and alive," she said. She gazed down into the wine for a long moment. "What was he doing at the Tree?"

"Trying to drain it," Ellesime whispered. "Trying to drive its power into himself. Trying to take its life into himself, so that he might join the Seldarine."

"What…?" Kera froze. "I never…how could he attempt such a thing?"

"Ask instead how he could attempt such a thing _twice_."

"_That_ was why he was exiled?"

"Yes," she answered, close to a whisper. "Yes. He sought to take the power of the Tree into himself once, a long time ago. He was caught and he was stopped, and his punishment was that his soul was carved from his body, and everything elven was taken from him."

"And then you set him free, him and Bodhi," Kera snapped. "Set them free without souls, and a new purpose for revenge."

"Yes." Ellesime's head lifted. "Yes, I did. I could not do otherwise."

Kera wrapped her hands around the stem of the glass until her knuckles whitened. "What was Bodhi like?" she asked to distract herself.

"She was much like him. Beautiful and clever. Daring. He was the stronger, and she was the bolder."

"You're saying she pushed him to it."

Those green eyes flared with something close to anger. "And if she did?"

"Then it makes him no less to blame for what he chose to do afterwards."

"Perhaps."

"I'm sorry," Kera said haltingly. "I had thought for so long that the man who took my soul did so only for his own purpose, not because of revenge for something that was done to him. I do not mean…"

"No," Ellesime replied, as quietly. "There is much to think on. I know this. For now, would you do me the honour of joining me here in the palace, perhaps two nights from now?"

"You want to _celebrate_ this?"

"Listen to me," Ellesime murmured. "Too many of my people have suffered, either in the drow city beneath us, or at Joneleth's hands, here. They know that they were saved, yet they do not know who their saviour is. Please. Do me this honour."

She wanted to snarl back at the woman that she did not want to, could not in fact. She had come here seeking her soul, and not to play hero for elves who had preferred to turn an enemy's hatred towards the world outside their hidden city. _You have nowhere else to go,_ she thought. _Not yet. You're tired. Exhausted. Two nights, and you can be paraded in front of them, beg some supplies, and then perhaps leave. _

"Very well," she said. "In two nights, your Majesty."

Ellesime smiled, and it did not touch her eyes at all. "Thank you."

After excusing herself from the queen's presence, Kera stalked back down the white corridors, hands hooked in her belt and her head down. She strode around another corner, and flinched when she ploughed into Imoen.

"Hey," her sister said mildly. "You go blind when you got your soul back?"

Kera snorted. "Sorry. I just saw her Majesty."

"The queen herself?" Imoen's eyebrows rose. "What did she want?"

"To graciously thank us for saving her hide, and to invite us to a banquet."

"Really?" Imoen looked at her for a long moment. "You look like you want to kill something."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." Quite firmly, her sister tugged at her sleeve until she moved. "Come with me."

She surrendered, and followed Imoen to her room, and even allowed herself to be pushed down onto the windowseat. Imoen hopped up beside her, took a deep breath, and asked, "So does it feel more like being you?"

"Yes," she answered honestly. "It's…I can't believe it was so long without it."

"Yes."

"Imoen?"

"Yes?"

"When did you wake up?"

"About a day and a half before you." Imoen grinned, but it faded quickly. "Did you dream?"

"No."

"That's probably a good thing." Imoen wound her arms around her knees and sighed. "Does it feel strange to you?"

"Strange?"

"That it's all over."

_We're Bhaalspawn_, she thought, and it rose bitterly in her mind. _It's never over, not really. _She summoned a smile for her sister, and said, "Yes, it does."


	11. Moonrise

_As always, a huge thank you to everyone who's reading, favourite-ing, reviewing and watching this story. _

_**Chapter Eleven – Moonrise**_

Afternoon sunlight flooded in through the high windows, painting bright circles on the floor near Kera's chair. She sat with her feet curled beneath her and a book open on one knee, and had absolutely no desire to venture back out into the palace corridors. She had discovered the library entirely by accident, and had almost immediately decided to hide herself away.

She heard cautious footsteps, and looked up in time to see the drow as he rounded the corner beside the high shelves.

"Kera," he said. "Am I disturbing you?"

"No, of course not." She sat up, winced, and confessed, "I've been sitting here for far too long anyway."

"Your sister mentioned you had fled in here," he said, and the corners of his mouth creased.

"Every time I go outside, they bow, or they _stare_ at me."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry." She shrugged helplessly. "I imagine it's far worse for you."

"Perhaps, but it's also to be expected."

He shifted his feet, and she saw again the tension in his frame. The white shirt clung to his shoulders, and she noticed how the laces were knotted just beneath the hollow of his throat. His sword hung at his hip, jarring and dark.

"Will you sit with me?"

Solaufein's head came up. "Of course."

She smiled, and motioned him across the pale stone floor to the windowseat. She sat beside him, her back against the panes and the book still clasped in her hands.

"What are you reading?"

"A story about a child who wishes to grow up and become a wandering hero, beloved by all." She shrugged. "It's rather like the kind of thing I read in Candlekeep when I had finished my lessons."

"In elvish?"

She laughed. "No. My elvish is not that good."

"I was taught to read, but our stories are rather different to yours."

"Who taught you?"

"At the very beginning? I think she was my mother's sister, but I am not sure."

Kera closed the book, let it sit on her other side. "Could you…how is it you are not sure?"

"My mother's family birthed many females. They were blessed," he said. "My mother had many sisters, and they had their own daughters."

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you something?"

"I thought we came to an agreement."

"We did, but this is…well, you may not wish to answer."

"I will have to make that decision when you ask, won't I?"

She smiled briefly, and said, "Do you regret what happened in Ust Natha?"

"Do I regret leaving? No. Not at all."

"But you can never go back."

"No," he said. "If you are asking whether I regret what happened to House Despana, then…no. It had to happen. It was _going_ to happen, whether due to my involvement or not."

"Solaufein."

He shook his head slowly. "Anything else I regret happened long before Matron Mother Ardulace bargained with a demon. And this way, I am still alive, and so are you. This…this is a good thing, yes?"

"Yes," she said, and ached. "It is."

Silence fell between them, easy and somehow comforting. She let her gaze wander across to where his hands were loosely laced together in his lap. She could see the shiny markings of small, old scars across his knuckles, and a longer one that disappeared under his sleeve.

"When I went to see Queen Ellesime," she said. "Do you know what I kept thinking?"

He shook his head.

"Apart from how I wanted to scream at her, all I could think of was how I'd seen the inside of her room before."

"What do you mean?"

"Irenicus had a room, in the place where he kept us. It was beautiful, and I know now that it was _her_ room."

"He wanted her still?"

"He wanted some memory of her, I think, to try and bring back what he had lost."

"He's dead," the drow said softly. "You killed him."

"I know." She summoned a smile. "Foolish to think of such things, isn't it?"

"No. It's not."

She let the silence take her again, and she became aware of the cool glass at her back, and the warmth of the drow's shoulder against her own. She watched as he turned his hands palm-up, and she noted thin scars webbing across the left one.

"How did you get those scars?"

"These?" He lifted his hand. "A long time ago. There was a window, in the Fighters' Guild, and my master had enemies, and those enemies tried to have him assassinated. It did not work, since he lived, and they all died, and during it, I made a mistake that ended up with my sword going through one of them, and my hand going through the window."

"An impulsive moment?"

"A stupid moment. I was very young." He smiled crookedly. "It worked, I suppose."

"Imoen would say that it wasn't a mistake, as long as it worked in the end."

"Your sister might have made a formidable drow, had you stayed in Ust Natha."

She turned her head, and saw that he was still smiling. "Then perhaps I should be glad she won't have the chance?"

He nodded. "You were close, growing up?"

"Yes. At first, because there was no one else around." She moved, so that her shoulder was curved against his. "We were different, but we were friends. We left Candlekeep together, and we weren't apart until Irenicus found us and took her from me. And after that, the Cowled Wizards took her, and it took far too long until I found her."

"Kera." He shook his head. He raised a hand, lowered it. "I do not know what to say."

"There's nothing to say."

"No, but I…I feel as if I should."

She smiled and shook her head. "Thank you."

They sat wordlessly for a while, barely moving except when Kera shifted a little closer, and Solaufein turned slightly so that his shoulder fit better against hers. She could feel him breathing evenly.

"Where will you want to go next?"

"After the queen finishes parading us, you mean? I don't know. I want to think that everything's done and over, and that we can go back to being normal."

"What is _normal?_" he asked.

She smiled slightly at his perturbed expression, and answered, "For us? I don't know. I think it was when we left Baldur's Gate, and everything seemed good. No one demanded anything of us."

"A kind of freedom."

"Yes."

"You don't think it's going to happen."

She looked sharply at him. "I…no. I want it to. I want to be able to walk out of here and choose where to go. But no, I don't think that's going to happen."

"In that place, Bhaal's place," Solaufein said carefully. "The thing Irenicus changed into. That was…?"

"Yes. That was the Slayer. I suppose he learned it from my soul."

"It was terrible."

"Yes," she said, and something twisted in her belly. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think that he would be able to…When it happened, I…"

"No," Solaufein said. "I did not mean it in that way. It was terrible, and it must have been a terrible thing to learn that it was within you."

"Yes. It was." She hesitated, then settled herself closer, and wondered again at how it felt so obvious, so right. "When it happened in Spellhold, it was so _simple_. I changed, and I saw Bodhi in front of me, and I knew I had to kill her, and I let the Slayer do it for me."

"But she escaped."

"Yes. She fled, so I turned around, and I tried to attack my friends."

"What happened?" he asked, quietly.

"I don't know," she said. "I remember going after them, and I remember them running."

_The change jolted through her, and her knees hit the floor. Her fingernails were split, her head pounding. She tasted blood on her tongue, and was not sure if it was her own. She looked up, and saw Jaheira, and Imoen, their faces stricken and pale. She stepped forward, and Imoen flinched away from her, and her gut twisted. _

"I told them I was sorry," she said. "Jaheira told me not to worry, but…"

"It is not the same," he said haltingly. "But…a long time ago, I killed three drow males. I did not kill them in the arena, or in defense, or in battle. I killed them in cold blood and trickery. I led them away from their companions and I killed them all."

"Why?"

"Because I believed they were a threat to me."

"And they weren't," she said.

"No. I only discovered that _after_ I had cut their throats."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because we all do things we regret," he said. His gaze lifted, fierce and level.

"Do you regret this?"

"No," he said, almost immediately, and he did not look away from her. "I do not regret this. Will I see you tonight?"

He must have meant the queen's planned celebration, but even so, some strange prickle of anticipation ran through her. "Yes," she said. "I'd like that."

* * *

When the moon rose, the queen's summons brought Kera from her chambers and to the throne room. She waited, teeth gritted and hands clenched, while she was announced, and fled into the crowd as quickly as she was allowed. She discovered Jaheira already seated, Minsc and Valygar on her other side. A look down the long white table showed her Imoen, braced on her elbows as she leaned forward, her lips parted in a smile as she exchanged words with the drow. Kera smiled and slid onto the bench beside Jaheira. "I was hiding," she said before the woman could ask. "You know I hate these things."

"I know," Jaheira answered. "Though it seems less for us and more for the queen."

"She nearly lost her city. I suppose she's just reminding herself it's still there."

"Yes. I suppose so."

Kera let her gaze wander across the high, arched chamber, to where Ellesime sat on her throne, splendid in green and gold, her hair swept up and pinned with diamond points.

"You look well," Jaheira said quietly. "How do you feel?"

"Better."

"Better?"

"Yes. You remember in Baldur's Gate?"

"Yes. You hid then, as well," she said wryly. "I had to send Imoen and Khalid to find you."

"Yes." Kera bit her lip, and could not quite look into the woman's face. Had they ever really spoken about it, she wondered? Talked about what had happened when they had walked through that door and into that room that had smelled of old blood and metal and something dank and rotten?

She had stumbled against Minsc, she remembered, and he had steadied her, and she had looked up just as Imoen gave that strange, strangled cry.

Jaheira had been silent, so silent for such a long time, while she stared at the table, silent until she said her husband's name.

"Jaheira, I'm so sorry."

"Don't," she whispered. "I know you mean…please, _don't_. Not now."

Kera nodded slowly. She wanted to apologise, wanted to lean over and wrap her arms around the woman as she should have on that terrible day. Instead, she swallowed, and asked, "Where's Haer'Dalis?"

"Over there," Jaheira answered, and tipped her chin. "Showing himself off, as usual."

She looked across the hall, past the silver hanging lamps, and noticed the tiefling, his spare, wiry frame twisting as he danced with that measured, unerring grace. He was taller than most of the elves around him, but he moved with them, his long hair thrown back off his face. The music changed, light and flowing, and the pace of it quickened, and he kept up easily and well.

Kera grinned. "He's enjoying himself."

"You missed it when he asked the queen herself to dance," Imoen called down the table. "For one awful moment I think she couldn't decide whether to agree or order his execution."

She laughed. "He would."

The song died away, the last notes chiming into the listening stillness. Flushed and smiling, the tiefling meandered back through the crowd. With one slender hand, he purloined Imoen's wine glass, sipped, and said, "While I appreciate a willing audience, I will not have you all gaping on the sidelines."

"You'll have to go on wishing," Valygar muttered.

"Oh, come now." Haer'Dalis' grin broadened, and he looked at Kera. "My raven. You are alive, my dear, and there is music. Will you dance with me?"

She smiled, and said, "No, Haer'Dalis. You are the performer, not me. Why even bother asking?"

"Ah, refused, as always, and yet so chivalrously." He turned, and pressed Imoen's wine glass back into her hand. "And you, my little one? Will you do me the honour?"

"The honour? You're awful, Haer'Dalis. You just want a willing victim." Imoen sighed, placed the glass on the table, and took his hand. "Keep your hands where I can see them, bard."

"An accusation, is it?" With his eyes laughing and bright, the tiefling guided her away from the table. "I am wounded."

The music began again, a sweet and lively tune that Kera vaguely recognised. She watched her sister smiling as Haer'Dalis lead her between the flickering elven dancers. Imoen spun, and the pale elven gown she wore fluttered at her waist and her throat. She laughed, and let the tiefling catch her as she whirled, before pulling away again, and motioning him after her. Kera regarded her a moment longer before turning away. She stepped past Minsc, squeezed the ranger's shoulder. She slipped onto the bench beside Solaufein, and met his slight smile.

"Your sister," he said, quietly and carefully. "She and the tiefling..?"

"Oh," Kera answered, and laughed. "No. Not in the way you're asking. Haer'Dalis likes to dance, and he does not care who he dances with, only that they enjoy themselves, and that he does."

"Oh." Solaufein's eyebrows met. "Forgive me. I am still unused to surfacer customs, I think."

"It's alright," she said. She let herself look at him then, at the black shirt and dark leggings he wore, at the way his hands were clasped on the table. She bit her lip, and said, "I do not mean this as an insult, but…Solaufein, you look entirely out of place."

One side of his mouth curved. "I feel entirely out of place."

"You and I both, I think."

The music rose, and Kera noticed how Jaheira sat with Minsc and Valygar, her head bent to the table, and a small smile on her lips.

"How did you meet your friends?" Solaufein asked. "Would you tell me?"

She reached for the decanter, filled her glass, and his. "Imoen and I met Jaheira and her husband Khalid a long time ago. They stayed with us, and never left. We met Minsc in a place called Nashkel, which is a long way from here. He had lost his witch to some gnolls, and he needed help to get her back."

"Dynaheir," Solaufein said. "And you did?"

"Yes." She lifted the glass, tasted the sweet tang of the elven wine. "We did. It was a long time after that when we found Valygar."

"_Found_ Valygar?"

"Yes. It was after we'd escaped from Irenicus' dungeon, and we needed money." A lot of money, she remembered, enough money to impress the Shadow Thieves enough to buy their allegiance and their help to Brynnlaw Island. "We were given a commission, to go after a wanted man, and that man was Valygar."

"What happened?"

"We'd been offered more money if we brought him in alive. So we listened to what he had to say, and he joined us. It wasn't easy, to begin with, but after we helped him, it became easier, and he decided to stay with us." She remembered those tense first nights, when she had seen the ranger stalking the length of camp, barely sleeping, and how he had turned ashen when she had explained her heritage. "A favour for a woman – a tiefling – called Raelis got us into trouble with a wizard, and that was how we met Haer'Dalis."

A troupe of actors, she remembered, and a stolen gem, and secrets, and the rippling whites and greys of a planar prison, strung between air and nothing. She and Minsc and Yoshimo had freed them, and killed the terrible warden, and Haer'Dalis had asked if he could remain with them, to see their lives flare bright and brief before they perished.

"A strange way it seems, to meet friends," Solaufein said. "But I have never before been outside of Ust Natha."

Kera grinned. "I don't think all surfacers meet their friends the way we do."

She reached for the decanter again, changed her mind, and listened as the music rose and crested. It was fast and dazzling and too loud, and the hanging lamps above burned pale and fierce.

"Your hair is down again," Solaufein said, and she looked up, and into his face.

"Yes. Do you like it?"

"Yes," he answered.

She needed to be outside, in the open air, away from the glare of the lights and the resplendent queen and the spinning sound of the flutes. She reached out, touched the edge of his sleeve. "Do you think the queen would notice if we vanished?"

"I think the queen would not notice if _I_ vanished, and fortunately, she's not looking at you."

She followed his gaze, saw how Ellesime's mouth was curved in a smile, her ringed hands clasped in her lap. Her eyes sparkled beneath the elaborate golden coils of her hair, and she laughed at something a tall elf beside her said.

_"What _is_ this place?" Imoen asked, hushed. She reached up, and her hand brushed the tapestry hanging beside the door. "It's beautiful."_

_ Kera shook her head. "I don't know." _

_ "It can't be his," Imoen said. "It can't be."_

_ "I don't know."_

_ "It can't be. It's too beautiful." Imoen's fingers curled across the tapestry, across the bright figures that danced between soaring branches. "Look at the colours. It can't be his. Why would he have this room? You were there. You know what he's like. This isn't his."_

_ "Imoen," Kera snapped. "That's enough." _

"I have to…" Kera swallowed. "Come outside with me?"

"Yes."

She smiled to herself, and slid off the bench. As the music rose and rippled, she led the drow past the white tables, and up the steps, and out into the night beyond.


	12. The River

_I own almost nothing, and I must thank everyone who is reading, favourite-ing, and has this story on alerts. As always, reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Twelve – The River**_

With the drow beside her, Kera crossed the wide white plaza and listened to the sounds of the forest beyond the high walls. Solaufein tipped his head back, his eyes closing. The wind stirred his hair away from his face, and she saw him smile.

"Better?"

"Better," he answered.

"Do drow celebrate such things?"

"We enjoy celebrating all sorts of things. We enjoy our luxuries, and indulging them after a good victory, or a successful act of vengeance."

She looked sidelong at him. He seemed carved out of the night itself, his long white hair the only cry of colour against his dark shirt and darker skin. "When we were in Bhaal's place, I saw my brother."

"Your brother who you killed?"

"Yes."

His eyelids flickered. "I was in the arena, and I was injured, and I was not allowed to leave."

"Did that…was it a memory?"

"Yes. Except, when it happened, and it was years ago, I _was_ allowed to leave. I was bleeding too much, and it was not meant to be to the death, and they let me out."

"I'm sorry," she said helplessly.

"Why? We did not know each other then, and even if we had, you would have been a drow. I know why I saw the arena, and it has nothing to do with you." He frowned. "I meant…I did not mean to say that. I meant that it was not your fault. Not in the way you seem to think."

"It's alright," she said.

"Your language is not as simple as I thought," he said. "Perhaps it is when spoken between drow, but…I hear myself saying things that often do not quite mean what I thought they did."

"It's not just you who has that problem," Kera remarked wryly. When his frown did not lift, she told him, "Solaufein, you're not offending me. You're not saying the wrong thing. Besides, we have an agreement, don't we?"

"Yes," he said, and smiled. "Yes, we do."

She walked beside the wall, Solaufein keeping pace beside her. This far from the palace, the shadows deepened, and she could hear the sound of the river that curled its way around the city.

She meandered past the pale torches, and through the arch in the wall. Smooth steps were carved into the stone there, curving down towards the river. She padded carefully down, and along the narrow path that lead alongside the rushing water. The wind sweeping in from the forest was cool, and dragged the torchlight above into ragged plumes. Solaufein followed her wordlessly, and she found that she was content to simply listen to the sounds of his boots against the stone, and the slow, even way he breathed.

"I came down here two days ago," Solaufein said when she stopped. "The river, it…makes hearing things difficult. Then I listened _to_ it, and it has its own layers of sound. Very strange."

"Strange?"

"In the Underdark, a drow learns to hear the silence, and the slightest noises above it, the sly silence. We learn how to measure distance by the sound of footsteps on rock, or how a drow's voice carries, even when he whispers." He turned his head, his gaze flicking out to where the torchlight shimmered, trapped in the rolling dark water. "I remember once, I saw a waterfall. Huge, dropping down into nothing, and the sound of it…it roared like some terrible monster. Our scouts hated it, hated it how it made us deaf."

She listened, and heard the surging sigh as the river swept against the rocks, somewhere in the darkness in front of her. "This is different?"

"Yes. It is not surrounded by stone. The sound travels differently."

She followed the line of the river bank, her eyes on the damp ground. There, she discovered that the edge of the bank dipped, all water-smoothed stone. Carefully, she hopped down, and her heels skidded slightly. Solaufein dropped down beside her, sure-footed and almost silent. This close to the river, the air was full of spray and the heaving noise of water against rock.

"Solaufein," she said.

"Yes?"

She leaned against the stone and wondered if the clamour of the water might steal her words. "Nothing. I don't know."

"You have your soul," he said. "But you are sad, however strong, however quietly. Tell me what I can do?"

She glanced across at him, at the few inches of space between them. The cool stone pushed against her shoulders, and every breath between her lips tasted of the river spray.

"Solaufein," she said, slowly, "I am not sure that you can give me what I want right now."

He stepped in front of her, and she saw his teeth flash in a smile. "Can't I? I can read your face, and I think I know what your eyes are asking."

Heat rushed into her cheeks. Surely he could see the way she was looking at him, could hear her uneven breathing. "And what is that?" she heard herself say.

Solaufein tilted his head and moved, closing the distance between them. His lips brushed hers, softly, hesitantly.

He was waiting for her, she realised, waiting for her to be sure.

She leaned in and kissed him, as gently. He tasted of the sweet elven wine, and when his tongue twined against hers, she sighed. His hands roamed up and down her sides, and the movement of his mouth turned insistent. She responded, digging her fingers into his hair, feeling the way his lean shape pressed against her.

Solaufein pulled away, his lips parted and wet. "Was I right?"

She did not let her grip on his collar and neck slacken. "What do you think?"

"I think…" He traced one hand across her cheek, slipped his thumb into her mouth. "I think that perhaps I was right."

She leaned into the delicious pressure of his hand. "When we leave here, will you come with me?"

"I was unaware that I was doing anything other than that." He followed the curve of her cheekbone. "I will be there with you."

"I'd like that."

Solaufein kissed her again, teasing her lips apart with his tongue. "What else would you like?"

"You," she said, quietly.

"Are you certain?"

"Why are you asking me this?" She looked into his face, into his crimson eyes. "Did you think I was leading you on?"

"No," he murmured. "Kera, it's just…I'm a drow."

"I know you are. Did you come out here with me just to tell me that?"

"No." He shook his head. "You know why I came out here with you. I just…want you to be certain. I want you…not regretful."

"Solaufein…" She clasped both sides of his head, her fingers sliding through his hair. "I am certain."

His mouth slanted onto hers, and his arms locked around her. She kissed him back desperately, roughly, her fingers digging hard against his shoulders. Solaufein pushed her backwards, until her back thudded against the rough stone. He tilted her head up, explored her throat with his teeth and tongue. His other hand found the laces on her tunic, slipped them free. His hands ran up and down her, exploring. She responded, surging against him, discovering that his skin was deliciously warm beneath his clothes. She played her fingers through his hair, found his ears. Gently, teasingly, she toyed with the small silver rings before leaning in to kiss the tapered end of his left ear.

Beneath her touch, Solaufein shook. His eyes closed, and for a long moment, he stood there, his breathing coming harsh and fast against her neck. "No," he murmured. "Let me…" He said something else, something in his own language, muttered and sibilant against her skin.

Cool night air touched her bare skin as he tugged her shirt away from her shoulders, and she suppressed a shiver. Solaufein gazed at her, his red eyes unreadable.

"Solaufein?"

He said nothing, his gaze flickering as he drank her in, her slight quivering as the night breeze brushed across her naked shoulders. He reached out and traced around her mouth. She whispered his name against his fingers, saw him smile.

He captured her lips with his, his hand descending down the taut line of her stomach. He found the laces on her leggings, pulled. Feverishly, Kera responded, tugged at his clothes. The stone was rough beneath her skin as he slid one hand under her thigh. He sighed something that might have been a question, but she no longer heard him. His fingers slipped down, finding the wetness between her legs.

Kera cried out, buried her face against his shoulder. "Solaufein…"

"Yes," he murmured.

She wanted to touch him, wanted to run her hands all over him and discover how she might make the breath catch in his throat, how she might make him writhe against her. But every time her fingers swept past his hips, every time she leaned into him and kissed his chest, he shifted away from her slightly, and kissed her until she trembled against him. His hands were on her again, agile and sure, and when he tilted her face up again, she let him, and her thoughts scattered. He cupped his hands beneath her, lifting one thigh around his waist, and she shivered when he slid slowly into her. "_Oh._ That feels..."

"Yes," he said again.

She pressed her head against his shoulder. She was losing herself to the sensation of him inside her, to the uneven rhythm of his breathing. She tasted sweat on his bare shoulder when she kissed him. The white ends of his hair clung to his collarbones, and he sighed when she ran her hands up and down his back.

He dipped one hand down into the slippery press of skin and heat between them. Kera whimpered, twisted against him fiercely. His soft, low laugh answered her. She sank one hand in his hair, coaxing his head to one side so she could press her lips against his ear. The circling, deliberate pressure of his fingers had her shuddering, and she arched against him when the release took her. For a long, breathless moment, they stayed locked together. Her face was hidden against his shoulder, and she tasted cold spray on his skin. His arms were around her, painfully tight.

Solaufein pressed a soft kiss to her neck, and murmured her name. "Are you alright?"

Still trembling, she wove her fingers through his hair. "Yes." She smiled, aware of the high flush on her face. "Do I not look alright?"

His gaze traveled admiringly across her. "You look entirely and perfectly alright. I was just…worried that I might have been too rough."

"No."

"Kera, I…" He shook his head silently. "I should lead you back. It's late."

He moved, leaving her arms empty. She fumbled with the laces on her tunic and leggings, suddenly not sure what to say. Did he think she had taken what she craved from him, and that would be all? Was he playing the compliant drow male and waiting for some order? "Solaufein?"

He straightened the laces on his shirt. "Kera?"

"Solaufein, I…" She shifted uneasily. Past his shoulder, she could see the river, surging and dark. "I was wondering…do you think we could do this again sometime?"

He smiled. "I would like that. Now, come, or your friends will be thinking that I have kidnapped you."

For a wrenching, terrible moment, she wanted nothing more than to push him back against the curve of the stone and lose herself in his arms until they were both exhausted. But the night was deepening, and the wind was turning cold, and even beneath her clothes now, she was shivering. So she laced her fingers through his, and let him lead her up the stone steps and away from the river.

* * *

Alone in her room, Kera slept fitfully, and woke to the pale light of dawn at the casement. She rolled over, and stared at the empty rumpled sheets, and her hands, clasped on them. Why had she not asked him to stay, she wondered? Why had she let him smile that small smile at the door, and turn away, and leave?

He had kissed her fingers, she recalled, pressed them hard to his mouth.

_And then he had smiled, and turned, and left her. _

She slipped out of bed, and her feet touched the cool floor. She brushed her hair, went to pick up the ties she usually preferred, and changed her mind. She chose an old greying shirt, and toyed for far too long with her belt and the buckles on her boots. She quartered the floor again before gritting her teeth and striding out into the corridor. Deserted this early, as she had hoped, and she found her way past the high columns and to Solaufein's room easily.

She hesitated at the door, her hand clenched and hovering.

_What_, she wondered, _was she thinking?_

_ Had it been truly so long since she had been inside the circle of a man's arms that she was fleeing to the drow so quickly?_

She dithered a moment longer, knocked, and then pushed the door open. She saw half-burned candles and open curtains, and the drow, sitting at the casement, his legs stretched across the windowseat and his hands idly linked.

"Is…everything alright?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Oh." She stared down at her feet. She blurted out, "What were you doing? In here, I mean?"

"Waiting for you. That is, if you wanted."

"_Oh_." She exhaled slowly, and slow, warm relief uncoiled in her belly. "Oh. Good. I mean…yes. I wanted."

"Forgive me. I am not used to this." He slid off the windowseat, paused in front of her. He was looking at her, his face full of strange wariness. "I did not mean…"

"Solaufein." Very gently, she touched his face, traced the sharp slant of his cheekbones. "I didn't think."

"Neither did I, it seems," he said wryly. "Do you forgive me?"

"Yes," she said, and gulped out a laugh. "I was worried. That…maybe you regretted it, after all."

He tipped his head to one side. "No. Never."

For a long, almost disbelieving moment, they looked at each other, her hand cupped at his face, and his eyes wide and wondering. Then either she moved, or he did, and they ended up curled around each other. She held on to him, feeling the way the tension emptied out of his shoulders, and how his breathing steadied. He curved his head against her neck, and she felt the warm pressure of his mouth.

"Come with me," Kera said. She kissed him, long and slow and patient. "Please."

Solaufein smiled. "How could I refuse?"

She took his hand and wordlessly led him away, and back to her own chambers. There, she closed the door, and looked at him.

"Stay still," she said, and before he could protest, she cupped his face, ran her thumbs along his jaw. His skin was smooth and soft, and when she touched his throat, he tilted his head back slightly. She combed her fingers though his white hair, and when he lifted his hands to clasp her shoulders, she shook her head and murmured, "Stay there. I want to touch you."

He frowned, but he stayed still, very still. He let her unlace his shirt and tug it over his head, and she looked at the lean lines of his chest, and the scars on his dark skin. She touched him, explored him, found the dip above his collarbones, the press of his shoulderblades, the way his pulse flickered at his throat.

"Kera," he said, and the word came out rough and thick. "Let me see you?"

She smiled and complied, shedding her clothes easily. She stood wordlessly and let him look at her, let him wrap her hair around his fingers, let him cup a hand over the curve of her hip.

"Come here," she said, and guided him across to the bed. She pushed him down and worked his boots and his leggings off, and smiled at him when he leaned forward and tried to help her. "Don't."

She took him into her mouth until he shuddered and twisted under her. His hands tangled in her hair.

"Kera," he said. "I'm not going to last."

She sank onto him, and she rose and fell against him until his whole body arched up against her. He gasped something, and it might have been her name. She rested her forehead against Solaufein's shoulder, and felt his hands playing through the loose ends of her hair.

"Don't move," she said when she felt him gather himself as if to roll out from underneath her. "Please don't move."

He kissed the side of her neck, and murmured, "I won't."

"Solaufein?"

His hands settled against the slope of her back. "Yes?"

She lifted her head so that she could look into his face, into his red eyes. "I want to stay."

Solaufein smiled, and he said, "Then stay."


	13. The Wheels

_As always, I own little. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirteen – The Wheels**_

Mid-morning sunlight spilled through the open curtains and across Solaufein's bare shoulders. Lying beside him, Kera toyed with the bright fall of his hair. She let the thick white strands slip across her fingers again and said, "Your hair is soft. Very soft."

He blinked slowly and watched as she threaded her way through his hair again. "Am I truly so intriguing?"

"Well, you are the first naked drow I've ever seen."

"Apart from yourself." He smiled. "You…did not lie with anyone in Ust Natha?"

"No. Nor for a quite a long time before Ust Natha."

"Why not? In Ust Natha, I mean?"

She trailed her fingertips up the side of his ear. "No one captured my fancy."

"Indeed? I find that…I rather like that." He leaned into her hand.

"If I had," she said, and paused to weigh her thoughts. "If I had come to you in Ust Natha..?"

"Yes," he answered. "I would have let you have me."

"Because you would have _had_ to."

"Yes."

She shook her head, and trailed her hand down the smooth, muscled lines of his chest to distract herself. "I don't know what to say. Could you truly never refuse?"

"Not without inviting some other punishment. It was not always terrible, or painful. Sometimes the act itself is pleasurable." He covered her hand with his. "I find myself preferring that you waited."

"_We_ waited," she said gently. "Besides, you started it."

He smiled again. "Oh? _You_ took me outside."

"Stop shifting blame." She found herself grinning again, foolishly and far too wide, and when he ducked his head and kissed her, she closed her eyes. "And stop tempting me."

"Tempting you?" His red eyes flickered wickedly. "Did you have something else pressing to do today?"

"Not at all." She trailed her hand down to his hip. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"I like this," she said. Her hand travelled lower, and she heard his soft inhalation.

"So do I," he said, and arched into her touch. "Kera."

He kissed her, his mouth warm and damp and demanding. He guided her on top of him until her legs parted across his hips, and he teased her with his hands until she shuddered over him.

"Please," she gasped against his lips. "_Please_."

He whispered something into her ear, and then he was moving and inside her, and she bent her head against his neck, breathed in the scent of his skin and his hair. Afterwards, they lay coiled around each other, her legs tangled with his and her forehead against his chest. Blindly, she reached up and found the tapered end of his ear, stroked until her fingers bumped against the silver rings.

"Why all the rings?"

"Vanity."

"Really?" She traced the silver curve of one. "You…struck me as more practical than vain, even in Ust Natha."

"All drow are vain," he said, smiling. "Didn't you know? Some of us wear house markings, some of us have marks carved into our skin, some of us wear elaborate clothes, and some of us lowly Guild fighters make do with rings in our ears and our hair."

"In your hair?"

"Oh, yes. You'd be amazed how long a drow can spend on such things."

She levered herself up on one elbow, looked suspiciously at him. "You're making fun of me."

"Only a little." His smiled widened. "But yes, I am vain, I suppose."

"Then perhaps we should find you something suitable for your hair." She curled herself closer to him, and let her fingers play against the rings. "They're beautiful."

"Thank you." His voice thickened, and when she teased the very tip of his ear again, he groaned. "_Oh_. That…"

"Too soon?" she asked, and grinned.

"Somewhat," he said, and it came out breathless. "I'm sorry."

"Solaufein," she said. "Don't be sorry. _Don't_. I was teasing you."

Under her hand, he went very still. "I don't…"

"We have all day, and all night, and tomorrow," she told him gently. "And the next day, and however many days afterwards that you might want to have with me. I want you, and not for a single afternoon's pleasure."

He stared down at the rumpled sheets for a long time. His eyelashes flickered, and he said, "I had hoped that."

* * *

Solaufein drifted close to sleep, aware of the cool air against his skin and the soft weight of the surfacer girl who was curved around him. She was breathing evenly and steadily against his chest. Curiously, he ran his hand through the unbound, glossy spill of her hair. She was a strange, beguiling collection of colours, he decided, pale and dark in odd places. Her scars were faded and white against her skin, and he wondered again how terrible it had been, in the cage in Irenicus' dungeon. His fingers tightened in her hair, and she sighed something inaudible against him.

How long had it been since he had felt this deliciously indolent? This inclined to do nothing more than shift so he could gather her closer to him, this content to simply lie there and enjoy the feel of her warmth against him?

_Too long_ he thought, _and that was very different. _

That was before his disgrace. That was before Matron Mother Ardulace had summoned him to the Temple of Lolth to bow to her daughter and hear how her voice had changed, and become something he grew to hate.

Solaufein exhaled slowly. The past was the past, his master had once told him, and could never be changed, only endured, and sometimes regretted.

_Not this_, he thought, and brushed his hand through her hair again. _Not this_.

He followed the curve of her ear and noted again how strange it seemed, how very different from his own.

"You know," Kera murmured. "I don't think that feels nearly as good for me as it does for you."

He laughed. "I'm sure there are other things that do, yes?"

"Well, yes." She stretched lazily against him. "Did I fall asleep?"

"You did."

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He traced the side of her face, slipped his thumb beneath her jaw and stroked. He could feel her pulse, erratic and fast. "Does this feel strange at all to you?"

"Strange?"

"I keep expecting the door to open and something to call you away from me."

"The door's locked," Kera said, and smiled. "And besides, if something does happen, I want you with me."

The breath caught in his throat. "Yes," he managed. "I would want that."

He wanted to kiss her, to cover her smile with his own until she gasped into his mouth and held on to him as if he might be the sole thing in the world keeping her sane. _Just as she had yesterday_, he remembered, _when her lips had parted against his and her fingers had dug into his shoulders hard enough to hurt._

He murmured her name again, and drew her face to his, and kissed her. As before, her arms went around him, and he wondered why he was slightly surprised. He twisted over onto his side, explored the lines and curves of her small body. The slight swell of her hips fascinated him, and the pliant movement of her mouth against his made him shiver. Kera urged him on top of her, and he hesitated. She kissed him again, and guided him so that he was above her, her hands on his shoulders. Her legs opened beneath him, and he said, "Is this..?"

"Yes," she answered, and her back arched. Her hands tangled in his hair. Her tongue fluttered against his, teasing, asking. He groaned in response and buried himself in her. She breathed his name against his ear, and when she tilted her hips, he shuddered.

"Please," Kera murmured, and nipped at the very tip of his ear.

He rested his forehead against her shoulder, and when he thrust into her delicious, wet heat, she cried out and clung to him. He heard her saying his name again, in her strange surfacer accent, and he hid his face against the side of her neck. He wanted to touch her, to let his fingers wander across her until she shook, but she was moving under him, and when she teased his ear with her teeth again, he trembled.

"Kera," he managed. "Kera, wait."

"It's alright," she told him, and he surrendered, and lost himself again.

* * *

When the dusk fell, Kera nestled herself comfortably against the crook of Solaufein's shoulder. She supposed she should have been hungry, but her clothes were strewn on the floor, and she had no inclination to kick the sheets aside and find them. And besides, the drow was warm, and the sheltering weight of his arm was curled around her waist.

"Kera?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you…" He paused long enough to twist a thick lock of her hair around one finger. "Your friends," he said awkwardly. "I don't know how to say this. I understand that surfacers care about these things, and I also understand that most surfacers look upon choosing drow as something strange."

"Oh." She grinned and shook her head. "You mean, do I want to keep you secret? No. Not at all."

"Oh." His eyebrows dipped. "You don't?"

"No. Not unless you think it's a good idea."

"No, I don't," he said hesitantly. "You're not worried? At all?"

"About what the others will think? No. They can think what they like." Idly, she traced the line of his collarbone. "And I don't think that they're going to think anything too terrible."

"Oh." One side of his mouth lifted. "That…pleases me."

She dragged her fingertips across his chest, felt his muscles tightening beneath her. She found the tapered end of an old scar, followed it to where disappeared under his ribs. "How did you get this?"

"In the arena." His hand covered hers. "It was not long after Matron Mother Ardulace had Phaere taken into the temple. I was certain, so certain, that she wanted me dead. I was called into the arena, and my opponent was faster, and stronger. He tripped me, and took my sword, and he looked down at me, and he wouldn't kill me."

"Wouldn't?"

He shrugged, and glanced away. "I made it up to my feet again, and he had my own sword against me. He said I was to be humiliated for what I'd done to House Despana."

"You hadn't done anything to House Despana."

"Oh yes, I had." A strange smile played across his mouth. "I had stolen away Ardulace's heir, and made her care too little for the power of her own house. If her daughter could be made to forget so easily, what might that say about her mother?"

"Solaufein." She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, how she could hear the ache in his voice. Instead, she traced her way back up the wide curve of the scar. "What happened in the arena, in the end?"

"He had my sword against my chest. He told me again that I was going to be punished. That even if I survived, I was going to be taken to the temple and flogged. So I leaned onto the sword."

"You..?"

"Yes," he said, and his eyes flicked away again. "He stood there, and when he moved, I kicked his feet out and took my sword from him and killed him."

She pressed her mouth against his shoulder, felt the corded tension in him seep away slightly. "It doesn't change how I feel."

"It doesn't?"

"No. Why would it?"

"I don't know."

"We've all done things," she said. "Things that we had to do, or should not have done. Things we have to do to survive."

"Yes."

She found the scar on his arm, newer, the texture still shiny, and remembered how she had watched him drag the dagger down to his elbow. "I hated watching you do that."

"It was necessary."

"I know. I wanted…I don't know. I didn't like it. And I couldn't _tell_ you I didn't like it."

"You could have."

"Oh, yes? You already thought I was insane at that point, I'm sure."

"I thought you were a very strange drow." He touched her face, let his fingers tangle in her hair, and he murmured something in his own language.

"You said that before," she remarked. "What does it mean?"

"It means you're beautiful."

She smiled, a little uncertainly. "Thank you."

His hand played across her collarbone and up the slope of her neck. He cradled her face, and something in the way he looked at her stole whatever else she had wanted to say. She leaned into him, burying herself in the circle of his arms until she could feel the uneven thud of his heart beneath her cheek.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Are you hungry?"

He laughed. "Yes, actually."

Reluctantly, she slipped out of his embrace. "I've just realised I'm starving."

"That happens when you eat nothing all day," he said.

"Very funny."

She grinned at him, and loitered long enough to kiss him when he pushed the sheets aside. He found her clothes, scattered across the floor, and passed them across. She dressed slowly. In the corridor outside, she found a servant, and asked for food and drink and if her Majesty could be informed that two of her guests would not be joining her for dinner.

"Oh?" Solaufein smiled when she closed the door again. "You're not letting me go at all today?"

"Not at all. Unless you want to."

"No," he said firmly. "I don't."

The elven servant returned, and Kera thanked him, and placed the tray on the edge of the bed. She chose the decanter first, poured two glasses of pale wine.

"It's different," Solaufein said when he sipped at it. "I am not sure if I like it."

"It's light. What did you drink in Ust Natha?"

"Wine brought by traders into the city for the most part," he answered. "We enjoy treating ourselves well with good wine. At least, those of us who can."

She remembered Phaere's rooms, and pale light unraveling across the bright spill of tapestries, and the fine silks the drow woman had offered in exchange for some errand or other, and the rich, heady wine, and the glittering array of silver jewelry.

They ate unhurriedly and lazily, and between them, drained half the decanter. She helped him finish the last of the sliced apples, and by the time he placed the empty tray on the floor, she felt pleasantly drowsy. Solaufein guided her back down onto the sheets beside him, and he tugged idly at her shirt laces. "You're wearing too much."

She laughed, and wriggled out of her clothes. "Sorry."

When she was nestled against him again, skin to skin, he sighed and said, "Surfacers care too much about such things."

"Oh? I think it's meant to add mystery."

He laughed, that low, quiet half of a laugh. "I suppose it does."

"We're different, I suppose," she said. "We're taught that certain things are kept hidden."

"So are we, but to us, those things are betrayal, or a drow's true thoughts."

She wanted to ask him how he could have lived like that, and for so long, but she supposed she knew. Instead, she slipped her hand behind his head and drew him close. He responded with a pleased murmur, and the light, teasing play of his mouth. The insistent movement of his hands on her made her twist against him, and she noticed him smiling.

"What is it?"

"This," he said, and his fingers brushed her cheek. "Your skin changes colour."

She laughed. "Yes, it does."

"I like it," he said, his expression thoughtful. "It makes you look less troubled."

She opened her mouth to say something silly in reply, something about how blushing could mean all sorts of things. She shook her head, and only pulled him close again, close enough that she could murmur his name into his ear.

"Stay," she said. "Stay with me tonight?"

Solaufein kissed her fiercely. "Of course I will."

* * *

_Stone shapes moved amid the hanging branches of tall white trees. She breathed in, and tasted mist and dampness, and the wet soil beneath her feet. She did not know where she was, and it did not trouble her. She moved, brushing her way past dewed ferns and to where the high stone figures stood, now stilled and frozen before her. They were carved in the shape of faces, she saw, faces that looked at her through blank, hollow eyes. _

_ She reached down, dashed water off her hands. The air against her skin was cold. She thought that perhaps she had seen this forest before, but she could not recall where. _

_ "Gorion's ward," the stone shape beside her said, its voice deep and trembling, and making her ache. "Gorion's ward is here." _

_ She turned slowly, and reached out and touched the stone. Under her fingers, it was cold and wet. "Yes," she said. "I am here." _

_ "The wheels of prophecy turn," the voice said. "The wheels turn ever on."_

_ "Yes."_

_ "The one foreseen, the one foretold."_

_ Slowly, almost uncaringly, she trailed her fingers across the rough stone. Each breath tasted of something icy and old, and some part of her thoughts screamed at her that this was all wrong, that this was too soon. _

_ "That which is past is never truly gone." _

_ She pressed her fingertips against the stone and held on, even as the voice said more, even as the voice told her of a crossroads, and war, and more blood shed and spilled in the name of Bhaal's children. _

_ "No," she said, and the word came out hollow and frail. "No more." _

_ But the stone shapes implored her to listen and made her stay, even when her fingers scraped hard enough to draw blood. She could smell it, her own blood, thick with the copper smell of Bhaal's death, and in bright lines across the stone. She stumbled back and into the white trees, and felt their thin, dying branches pressing against her back. She should not be here, she knew that now, but she did not know where else she could be. She fought to remember and could not. _

_ There would be war, they said. There would be death, they said. There would be her brothers and her sisters, those she had never met and hoped never to see. There would be the Sword Coast awash with blood, blood shed for Bhaal and by Bhaal's children. _

_ There would be deceit, and there would be fate, they said._

_ "A god that once has been may be once again." _

* * *

Hands came down on her shoulders, turning her, cradling her against something solid and warm. For an uncertain moment, she almost panicked. But the arms around her were lean and wiry, and the soft words whispered in her ear were sibilant and low and not in her own language. She forced sticky eyes open, and saw moonlight, and Solaufein's hair, framing the hard angles of his face. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't…"

"It's alright," he said, and gathered her closer. His hand combed through her hair. "It's alright."

"I dreamed," she said. She remembered how she had asked him to stay, how she had drifted off in his arms, how she had woken briefly and found his mouth nearly against hers, how she had kissed him and let herself fall back into sleep.

"What kind of dream?"

"A dream I've never had before." She told him what she had seen, how the stone faces in the trees had seemed to move and shape words that had wrung through to her very core. She told him what they said, and that she did not understand them, not really.

"What does it mean?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I don't know. I think it means…I don't know what I think it means."

"It's alright," he said again. "I didn't mean to startle you. When you woke."

"You didn't. I just…" She closed her eyes for a long, fraught moment. "I need to see Imoen."

He nodded. He kissed her once, deeply, and pushed the sheets aside. He found her clothes, and handed them across. "I understand."

"No, I mean…" She stared at him. Her thoughts were all jumbled in her head, and she could taste the strange cold air of the forest in the dream. "Will you come with me?"

His face relaxed into a small smile. "I will."

Kera dressed quickly, and he helped her with the laces on her cuffs and at her collar. Without speaking, he raked the thick strands of her hair back over her shoulders, braiding them with quick, agile fingers. He tugged his own clothes back on, finished with his sword. She clasped his hand, and led him out into the empty corridors of the palace. The gap beneath Imoen's door was dark, and when Kera knocked, she heard nothing. She waited a moment longer and knocked again, slamming her fist against the door.

She _had_ to know, had to know if her sister had dreamed the same dream, had heard the same words, echoing sharp and needling inside her skull.

The door swung open, and Imoen stared out at her, her hair in bird's-nest tangles and her eyes wild. "Kera?"

"Did you see it?"

Imoen nodded slowly. "The faces. The trees. Kera, what does it mean?"

"Can we come in?"

Imoen flinched, and nodded again. "Yes. Yes. Come in."

She crossed the threshold, Solaufein beside her, his hand still wrapped around hers. Imoen fumbled with the curtains, yanked them aside wide enough that moonlight spilled in through the casement.

"What does it mean?" her sister asked again. "Kera, what does it mean?"

She gripped Solaufein's hand tighter and said, "I'm sorry. I don't know."


	14. Leavetaking

_As always, thank you to everyone who's following this story, and reviews are always welcome. Also, given the rather hectic pace of real life at the moment, I think I will have to slow my updates to (hopefully) around once a week or so. _

_**Chapter Fourteen – Leave-taking**_

Imoen paced again, her hands twisting and her lips pressed together. She quartered the floor with fast, jolting steps until Kera reached out and caught her wrist. "Imoen," she said. "Sit down."

"I'm sorry," her sister said. "I just…Gods. It was _so real_."

"Yes."

"Was that…you told me about dreaming about Irenicus. Was it like that?"

"Yes, it was."

"I could hear their voices in my head." Imoen raked her fingers through her hair again. "Do you really not know what it means?"

"No." Kera leaned slightly against the welcome press of Solaufein's shoulder. "Not really. I know it means things are going to change. Imoen, did you hear the words?"

"Yes. A god that once has been may be once again." She shook her head. "What do we do?"

"We need to get the others," Kera said, slowly and softly. "We need to tell them."

"Do we?"

"You know we do," she told her sister firmly. "This is not something that can be kept from them. They need to know."

"I know." Imoen dragged down another deep breath. "It's just…I know we were leaving anyway. I just didn't want it to be for something like this. I wanted to be able to choose."

"It's not far from dawn. We'll need everyone together, and we'll need to tell them as soon as possible. Can you find everyone for me?"

Imoen smiled strangely. "You and Jaheira _both_ do that to me."

"What?"

"Give me something simple to do because you think it'll distract me."

Kera shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry."

"No, it's alright." Imoen's gaze flicked from her sister to the drow and back again, and she said nothing. "I'll find them for you."

* * *

Beneath the white arches of Kera's room, Solaufein watched as she paced, her fingers coiled tight at her sides. The pale grey of that light that would become the earliest part of the day fell between the curtains. He waited until she was nearly in front of him before he asked, "Why would you not speak to your sister about your dream?"

"I'll be saying the same thing to everyone else." She rubbed her knuckles across her forehead. "Should I have?"

"I don't know," he said carefully. "I don't know _what_ you could have said, so I don't know."

She smiled, and it looked weary beneath the hollows of her cheeks. Where, he wondered, was the surfacer girl who had shuddered against him and whispered his name into his ear and explored his skin so gently and so curiously?

_She was there_, he told himself, and remembered how she had clung to him after the dream had brought her crying out from sleep.

"I don't know what's going to happen," she said. She turned towards him again, and leaned her head against the crook of his shoulder. "After I left Candlekeep, a long time ago, I remember I had a dream about blood."

"Blood?"

"Blood. Just blood. Not mine. Maybe Bhaal's. It woke me up and I just sat there in the dark, wondering what it meant."

He slid his arms around her, gathered her firmly against him. He could feel the small tremors running through her. He could not tell her that it would be alright, for how could he know such a thing? Instead, he claimed her lips and kissed her until her hands twisted in his hair.

"Solaufein." She kissed the side of his neck, just beneath his jaw.

Her breathing quickened against his skin. Her teeth grazed the tip of his ear, and then sank deeper, and he groaned. She was warm and soft against him, and his body betrayed him. He wanted to let her push him against the wall, or perhaps even turn and do the same to her, until every inch of her was pressed tight against him. He tried to pull away, and muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she murmured. "But we _do_ have to talk to the others first, yes?"

He laughed, a little breathlessly, and said, "Yes. Yes, of course."

She kissed him again, and did not let him go until a knock at the door made her sigh. She took the time to trace his face, her fingertips lingering over his eyelids and his mouth. She opened the door, and beckoned Imoen inside. Her sister was followed by the druid, and the men, and the tiefling last, his cat-footed gait taking him across the room to the windowseat.

Slowly, quietly, Kera told them of the dream, and the stone figures, and the words that had jolted her out of sleep. Solaufein listened again, and something cold chased down his spine.

"The Sword Coast awash with blood," Jaheira muttered. "Gods above, Kera. Why now?"

"I don't know."

"We need to leave," Imoen said. "Don't we?"

"Yes." Jaheira nodded slowly. "As soon as possible. Kera, do you realize what this might mean?"

"What do you mean?"

"You spoke of other Bhaalspawn."

"Yes," she said, haltingly. "I know. It means they will be wanting to find us, and most likely to kill us."

"Most likely?" Imoen laughed, and it sounded brittle. "The stone shapes said we'd see our brothers and our sisters, and that they'd be wanting to spill blood for Bhaal."

"All of them?" Kera shook her head. "Would _all_ of them want that?"

"I do not know," Jaheira answered carefully. "But Bhaal has always wanted nothing more than rebirth."

"He doesn't want anything," Kera snapped. "He's dead."

"Kera," Jaheira said. "You cannot simply wish this away."

"I _know_." She spun away from the woman, her hands locking around her belt and twisting. "I know that."

"Where will we go?"

"South," Kera said, and her voice came out thin and strange.

Solaufein looked up sharply, saw that her face had changed, saw that she looked as she had in Bhaal's place, her eyes wild and full of something that was not quite her.

"South?"

"South," she said, in the same tone. "To Tethyr. It will begin in Tethyr."

"Tethyr?" Imoen scowled. "I didn't dream of Tethyr."

"Neither did I," she replied. "I just…I know. The place they talked about. The place where our brothers and our sisters are. Or where they will be. I don't know. We need to go south."

Jaheira shook her head, the line of her mouth flat and pinched, but she said nothing.

Valygar frowned. "You wish to leave today?"

Kera swallowed, and the drow saw her whole frame coiling, becoming rigid. "Yes. And I would very much like it if you would accompany me. Us."

The man smiled. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

Her face flushed slightly, that delightful soft touch of colour that made Solaufein want to smile.

Minsc said almost the same thing, and grinned when Imoen leaned in and clasped his shoulder. He scrubbed a hand through the girl's hair, and Solaufein glanced away. On the windowseat, the tiefling smiled expansively. "Well, my raven. As ever you present the threat of certain death with such clarity and _reassurance_. However, you still hold my curiosity, so yes, feel certain that I will be accompanying you, at least for now."

"I hold your curiosity?" Kera laughed. "Thank you. So much."

Haer'Dalis crooked an eyebrow at her. "You are welcome."

Kera agreed that she would be the one to inform the queen, and when she herded the others out, Solaufein noticed the speculative, careful glance Jaheira directed at him.

"Solaufein." Kera cupped his chin, turning his head until he was looking into her brown, surfacer's eyes, fringed with black lashes. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said, and it was mostly true. She had _said_ her friends would likely not care, and what reason did he have to disbelieve that? But still, he was a drow, and very unlike any of them, and newly on the surface. "Forgive me. A foolish thought."

She smiled, and shook her head. "Foolish? You?"

"Often."

"Not for choosing this, I hope."

"No." He clasped her face between both hands and studied her. "No. Not for choosing this."

She kissed him insistently, and his thoughts went pleasingly blank. He responded, arching against her until she found his belt and tugged. She had the buckle snapped open and the laces beneath untied, and when she slid down him until she was kneeling in front of him, he shook his head. "Kera, no. Wait."

"Solaufein," she said, and smiled. "Stop worrying. I want to."

He groaned. His hands delved into her hair, and when he felt the teasing play of her mouth, he closed his eyes. He did not last long, and he was halfway through gasping an apology when she dug her fingertips into the inside of his thigh and murmured that it was alright, of course it was alright.

"Kera." He sank onto his knees beside her, and hooked an arm around her waist. Whatever he wanted to say locked up in his throat. Instead, he buried his face against the side of her neck. "Come here."

She laughed and complied, and leaned into him when he scooped her into his arms. Somehow he managed to cross the floor to the bed with her tangled around him. He laid her down, and tugged her clothes off until he could see the pale curve of her hips. He guided her thighs up and over his shoulders. He could smell her, warm and wet and wanting, and when he kissed the crease at the top of her thigh, she shook.

"What are you doing?"

He smiled and gently grasped her hips. "Returning the favour."

* * *

When the sun rose above the swaying trees, Kera waited as the queen's guards opened the doors for her. As before, she discovered Ellesime at the windowseat, the soft curves of her face framed by a lush fall of golden hair.

"Ah. Kera." The queen's lips moved in a dazzling smile. "You are readying to leave, I understand?"

"That's right."

"Rumours fly fast," the queen said. "Forgive me."

She nodded, stiffly. "May I thank your Majesty for your hospitality these past days?"

"Of course. You are of course welcome to remain with us longer, if you wish it."

"Thank you," Kera said, and the words fell heavy. "But we must leave."

"Yes. I understand. May I offer you supplies, water? Clothing?"

"Thank you," she said again. "Supplies would be most helpful."

"Of course. Again, I must extend my most sincere thanks for what you have done for my city."

Kera nodded, and did not quite meet the queen's eyes. She was smiling, and Kera wondered what she could say to her, this elven woman who had loved Irenicus. _No, _she thought, _she loved Joneleth, and whoever he might once have been. _

Ellesime was speaking again, she realised, words that had to do with keeping safe on the road and always being welcome amid elven halls. She managed another smile, and excused herself, and found that the blood was roaring in her ears. She strode past the guards, and did not lift her head until she was across the threshold and back in her own chambers.

"Kera." Solaufein paused, both hands busy with the buckles on his armour. "What happened?"

She exhaled slowly. "Nothing. Can I help you?"

"Help me?"

"With your armour."

"If you want," he said, sounding entirely bewildered.

She joined him, and worked her way along his left shoulder and across his chest. She tightened the last strap, and her hand lingered on him. "You look…"

"Yes?"

"Rather more like yourself," she said, and smiled.

"Do I?"

"Oh, yes." She slipped her hand up, touched the slender braids woven at both temples. "You were dressed like this the day I met you."

"Kera," he said again, and clasped her hands between his. "What is it?"

"It's strange," she confessed. "But here…well. I feel like I'm in the wrong place if I'm out in the palace, or in the queen's dining hall, but in here, with you…I don't know. It feels right."

He smiled, slowly. "Yes."

"And I _know_ we have to leave. I know there's no other way. But…we won't be able to be alone in quite the same way."

"Yes." He glanced down, and she saw the corners of his mouth curl up. "You will have to learn to be quiet then, won't you?"

She laughed. "I'll try. I've never been very good at it, though."

She leaned into him then, into the welcome weight of him beneath the sharp lines and edges of his armour. She ignored his murmur to be careful, and pressed the side of her face against his. He smelled of leather and weapon oil, and whatever he had used to wash his hair. His hands dipped into her hair, teasing apart the end of her plait before his fingers cradled the back of her head.

"Kera," he said. "Are you afraid?"

"No. And yes." She turned her head, so that her lips moved against his neck. "I suppose I've always known this would happen. But before, there was always something else to do. Someone else to find. Sarevok first, then Imoen, and Irenicus."

"How is it that you knew about Tethyr?"

"I could feel it."

"Your blood," he said.

"Yes."

"I will stay with you," he said, in the same soft tones. "If you want me, I will stay with you."

"I don't know what might happen."

"We are alive, now, and together, now. What is gained by worrying about anything else?"

"Nothing," she said, and could not quell the uneasy lurch in her belly. "Nothing." Slowly, she eased herself away from him and looked into his face, into his strange red eyes. Without speaking, she traced around his lips.

"What is it?"

"You," she answered.

"We need to go," he said unsteadily. "Your friends will be waiting."

"Yes. You know what I really want to do?"

"What?"

"Help you take that armour off."

He smiled. "Later."

"Yes." She tugged him close, and wasted enough time for a deep, lingering kiss. "Later."

* * *

The forest smelled damp, and the keen wind that cut through the high branches overhead was crisp. Underfoot, the terrain was easy and rolling, green swathes that swept between grey outcrops and the arching trees. Kera followed Valygar's easy, practiced steps as he led, and she tilted her head back when the wind soughed through the curving leaves again.

_Tethyr_, she thought, and not for the first time since Suldenessellar had vanished behind them. _Why Tethyr? _

She remembered Gorion's letter, words in strong black ink on pale parchment, and how she had hunched over it, and read it again and again. How she had seen the words and not understood, and how she had made herself read again, and made herself see that it made sense.

_The blood and the way it smelled, even her own, _especially_ her own. _

_ Her father, Bhaal. _

_ Her father's blood in hers, and in the smell of it, and the feel of it, thick on her fingers and her mouth. _

She remembered the parchment, and how it had crumpled under her fingers when she had read the truth of her birthright. She had screamed, she recalled, screamed that it was not true, _could not be true_, even while she _knew_.

_"Kera?"_

_ She clenched her hands around the letter. "I'm fine," she snapped. "Leave me alone."_

_ "Kera." The door opened, and Imoen stepped through, frowning beneath the disheveled mop of her hair. "What's happened?"_

_ "Nothing."_

_ "You look dreadful. Tell me."_

_ "Nothing."_

_ "Tell me, or I'll take that out of your hands and find out anyway."_

_ The anger swelled, dark and hot and terrible. "I'm _fine_."_

_ "You're not. You're white and you're sweating."_

_ "This," she said, and pushed the letter into Imoen's hands. "_This_ is what's happened__." _

_She watched Imoen's face freeze as she read, and for a long moment, her friend did not move. Then, very carefully, she laid the letter down and wrapped her arms around Kera's shoulders. _

_ She stiffened, and tried to push her away, and Imoen only tightened her grip. _

_ "Don't you dare," her friend muttered. "I'm not going anywhere." _

* * *

When the dusk deepened, and the air turned cold and brittle, Jaheira called a halt. Kera swung her pack off and sighed. A few too many days idling in Suldenessellar had left her shoulders throbbing and her ankles tight after a solid day of marching. She looked across the small, flat space between the trees, smiled when she saw Solaufein frowning at something Haer'Dalis said. She was halfway across the damp swathe of ground when Jaheira caught her wrist and turned her.

"May we speak a moment?"

"Is that actually a question?" Kera responded, still smiling slightly.

Jaheira paused, and one side of her mouth moved. "Forgive me."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"You're not stupid, Kera. I'm sure you know." Jaheira drew her away from the others, to where the arching shape of some grey ash tree spanned overhead. "I do not mean to pry."

"This is about Solaufein."

"Yes. Do you know what you're doing?"

"What do you mean?"

Jaheira's dark eyes stayed fixed on the rough whorls of the tree. "He's still a drow."

"Jaheira."

"I'm sorry," she said, and her head turned. "I know you don't want to hear that. It's still true."

"You don't trust him."

"I didn't say that. I trust him in battle. I trust that he would not betray us, any of us. But he is still a drow, and drow are…"

"Treacherous?" Kera snapped.

"Different," Jaheira answered. "Kera, I don't want to see you hurt."

"He won't hurt me."

"Perhaps not. I just remember…" She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry."

"Jaheira." Kera shifted awkwardly, and brushed her hand across the druid's shoulder. "Thank you."

Jaheira snorted. "For prying?"

"Yes," she said, and grinned.

* * *

The moon rose, soft behind swirls of pale cloud. Kera crouched beside Imoen, partway through scrubbing doggedly at the inside of the cooking pot. "How did you manage to get it _quite_ so filthy?"

"What?" Imoen dried off the last of the plates. "I didn't hear you complaining during dinner."

"Fair point."

"It's strange, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"We were in Suldenessellar this morning, and now we're in the middle of nowhere again. Scrubbing things. Again."

Kera smiled. "You hate wrestling with the tents."

"I know." Imoen rocked back on her heels. "Hey. Now that you mention tents, I was wondering…"

"Yes?"

"Well." She shrugged. "I was wondering if you'd like it if I would share with Jaheira."

"Share with Jaheira?" Kera sluiced out the pot. "_Oh_. You mean..?"

"Yes." Imoen chewed on her lower lip. "So you and Solaufein can share. If you want to, I mean. If you don't, that's fine, but I thought, since you came into my room together and all, and I think you barely let go of him the whole time you were there, that maybe you'd want to."

"I'd like that," Kera said quietly. "I'd like that very much."

"Good. And _no_, before you ask, I didn't tell Jaheira. She already knew."

"She did?"

"Something to do with sneaking out of the dining hall, coming back in looking all hot and bothered, and then vanishing for the next day and a half."

"Oh." She grinned helplessly. "We weren't _trying_ to hide it."

"Good," Imoen said and nudged her. "Because you were making a lousy job of it if you were."

Kera flicked lukewarm water at her until she was rewarded by a yelp.

"You're a terrible sister," Imoen muttered.

"I know. And I'm going to sleep, and don't you _dare_ make any kind of comment."

"As if I would."

She discovered Solaufein alone at the fire, his eyes pinned on the twining flames. She sat beside him, and asked, "Are you tired?"

"Yes," he answered. His head turned, and the rippling play of the fire lit the white fall of his hair. "Your sister..?"

"She's going to sleep with Jaheira, so we can share."

"Oh." His lips parted in a slow smile. "She does not mind?"

"No, she doesn't." She found his hand, wreathed her fingers through his. "Come with me?"

He complied, and in the strange darkness of the tent, he helped her wrestle her boots and her leathers off. When she fumbled the laces beneath and swore, he laughed and caught her hands.

"Let me," he said, and gently untangled the knots.

"Just because you can see in the dark," she muttered.

"Oh?" His hands slipped up, brushed her hair away from her nape. "Is that jealousy, surfacer girl?"

"A little," she said, and shivered pleasantly when he kissed the back of her neck. She waited, listening to the rustling sound of him pulling his own clothes off. She turned into the circle of his arms, and let him guide her down into the blankets. She curled against him, her arm around his waist, and one leg over both of his. She shifted slightly, so that she could feel him breathing against her lips, measured and unhurried. She wondered if his eyes were closed, or if he was still looking at her.

"I have never done this before," Solaufein said.

"This?"

"Slept in a tent with someone like this." His hands trailed down to the curve of her hips. "I like it."

She leaned into him until her lips found his, clumsily and blindly. He smiled against her and caught her face between his hands.

"I'm here," he murmured. "Kera. I'm here."


	15. Ambush

_As always, a huge thank-you to everyone who's keeping up with this story. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Fifteen – Ambush**_

The south road wound through the thick, sprawling forest. The evenings turned longer and warmer, and the wind that came sweeping down through the trees smelled of new pollen and fresh grass. Underfoot, the terrain rolled lazily into low hills and thick scrubland, the sky above pale and blue and unbroken. They passed merchant caravans travelling north, and swapped coin for food and gossip. More than once, Kera heard mention of the south, and trouble brewing, and how Tethyr was no place for sensible folk, not now. She shrugged and smiled and lied, and said they were merely cutting through Tethyr on their way to Calimshan, and riches. Other rumours came with couriers on fast horses, rumours of bloodshed, and the dead left to burn in fields because there was no one left breathing who cared to bother themselves over such things.

Kera pushed on at a pace that left her exhausted, with the others straggling along beside her, and tried to forget the words she had heard in the dream.

Most nights she spent twined around the drow in the darkness of the tent, while she fumbled her way across the contours of his body, and he guided her. Others, they ventured out and into the trees, and she sighed into his mouth while the rough sycamore bark dug against her shoulders.

It was on the nineteenth day as Kera slipped out of the tent, leaving Solaufein curled on his side and drifting towards sleep, that she discovered her sister pacing in the starlit glade. "Imoen?"

Her sister whirled, and smiled, a little guiltily. "I couldn't sleep."

"Yes. I know what you mean."

"I badgered Jaheira until she let me take her watch."

"She _let_ you?"

Imoen's smile emerged again, too briefly. "Incredibly, yes." Her feet scraped against the grass. "Kera, I've been having dreams."

"What kind of dreams?"

"Dreams of Candlekeep. Gorion in his study. You and me in the stables. Do you remember when I threw that bucket of water over that poor stableboy?"

"Yes. What was his name?"

"Tarrith," she said, and blinked slowly. "But…Kera, it was different. It was all wrong. The walls were all wrong."

Kera touched her sister's shoulder. "I might be wrong about whether it's at all the same," she said carefully. "But when I first found out from Gorion, I dreamed of Candlekeep a lot. It wasn't quite right though."

"But you had dreams before you found out."

"Yes." She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I have more of Bhaal's blood."

Imoen grimaced. "Usually I hate missing out on things." Her hands lifted, pale and skinny, and pressed against her temples. "Talk to me."

"About what?"

"Anything. Solaufein."

"That's not _anything_, and stop scrounging for gossip."

Imoen smiled. "Sorry."

"You're not." Kera gazed at the curving arches of the trees, unmoving in the still night air. "Imoen," she said, and her sister's name lodged in her throat. "Imoen. About Irenicus…"

"No," Imoen said softly. "Don't want to."

"Imoen."

"Not now. We've got somewhere to go, and I suppose we'll find out whatever it is we have to do. I don't want to talk about him." She shook her head. "Tell me about you and Solaufein."

"Me and Solaufein what?"

"Well, you keep hiding yourself away with him. And I don't think you're playing cards."

Kera groaned. "Imoen."

"What? I never got to meet your previous conquest. I'm just catching up."

"Solaufein's not a conquest."

"Oh, dear. That bad, huh?"

Kera looked at her sister, at the hollows beneath her cheekbones, at the puffy, bruise-coloured shadows under her eyes. Part of her wanted to demand the truth, wanted to know what it had been like to be hauled off to Spellhold, to wake up and realize that Irenicus had enspelled his own captors, to understand that it was to be like it had been in his lair, all over again.

"Go to sleep," she said eventually. "I need you able to walk without falling flat on your face."

"You're no fun," Imoen remarked mildly. "I was hoping for some salacious confession."

"Sleep," Kera said again, and grinned. "Now."

Imoen sighed and gave in, and meandered her way past the high stand of ferns to her tent. Kera watched her a moment longer, and thought again that she was too thin, that her eyes were too bright amid the sharp angles of her face.

She remembered the cage, and how the bars had been cold to the touch that morning, that morning when things changed.

_Cold, so cold they made her flinch. She hunched away from them, and registered cold metal beneath her feet, and pressing through the ragged gaps in her leggings. She still wore her shirt, slashed at both elbows, and her weapons and boots and tunic and belt were missing. Each breath came in hasty gulps through lips that stung when she licked at them. _

_He had gone again, the man with the mask, the man with the jewel-blue eyes. He had spoken of her power, of her potential, of the secrets she had thought locked away inside her blood. _

_She heard footsteps, and she flinched away. She did not want to look up and see him again, did not want to hear his precise, clear voice. _

"_Kera!"_

_She shook her head. It would not be her, _could_ not be her, because he had told her that her friends were treated the same as she was. It could only be some trick of his, some new game, some design to make the relief shatter her since the pain had not. _

"_Kera. Get up. _Kera_. Please, it's Imoen. Please." _

_She squeezed her eyes shut tighter. She heard the footsteps again, closer, and the soft rustling sound of someone kneeling. Something brushed her fingertips, and she lurched away. _

"_It's me," the same voice said. "Please, Kera. It really is me."_

_She bit the inside of her mouth, hard enough that she tasted blood. She forced her eyes open, and found herself looking into Imoen's face, into eyes that were wide and wild and frightened. "Imoen," she whispered. "Imoen?"_

"_I'm here," her friend said, and her voice came out sandy and dry. She caught Kera's hand, gripped hard. "We need to get out of here."_

* * *

Six days following the trade road took them out onto open, rolling plains, dry and dusty beneath the blue bowl of the sky. Leading, with Valygar beside her, Kera noticed the emptiness first, the solid marks of cart wheels in the ground, and the dried-out footprints, and the absence of travelers. Twice they passed merchant trains, and the second time, Valygar shouted out that they were no threat, that they were simply wandering south, and the merchant's guards backed down and let them pass.

A day and a half later, Kera stood beside Jaheira and eyed the curve of the road, as it swept down the steep, rocky slope, and on towards a horizon that was grey with mist. She could see old tracks, and a small cluster of roofs and walls that was probably a tiny village, and nothing moving.

"Strange," Jaheira muttered. "All these days, and we've seen neither hide nor hair of bandits."

"Yes," Kera said. "Not that I'm complaining. But what's happening to keep the roads so clear?"

"Nothing good," Jaheira said.

"Are we across the border?"

"Yes." Jaheira flicked her braids back over one shoulder. "We've some days still to go until we'll see Saradush."

"You think that's our best guess?"

Jaheira shrugged. "I don't know. I know it's the closest city. We'll see, I suppose."

"How many times have we said that?"

"Too many," the woman said, and smiled slightly. "Are you ready to move on?"

She looked at the road, and to where it curled around and into the faraway greyness. "Yes."

* * *

That night, under the pale wash of the moonlight, Kera led Solaufein out and past the sputtering campfire and past the rough cliff edge that jutted up from the rough plain. He followed her wordlessly, his steps fast and poised over the loose stone as he vaulted up and over the edge. She paused, slightly breathless, and said, "Look. Down there."

He obeyed, and she saw his eyes widen when he looked across at the plain, turned silver and still beneath the fierce glow of the nearly full moon. "This is…"

She smiled. "I thought you'd like it."

"I've never seen anything like it," he said softly. "During the day, I didn't think…I didn't think it would look like this now."

She motioned him down beside her. She breathed in the cool night air and toyed with one of his hands, ribboning her fingers through his again and again. "Will you tell me about Eilistraee?"

For a long moment, he was wordless. "I grew up with Lolth's prayers in my heart, and I meant them when I repeated them."

"Truly?"

"Yes. What else? I remember standing with my brothers and repeating them, and my mother walking before us. I remember going to the temple, and looking up at the statues, and I believed in her."

She did not speak, did not push him, only lifted his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers.

"I was given scouting parties, and I had seen the surface, and always at night. I had seen the moon, and I thought she was beautiful, but…" His red eyes flickered. "It was after Phaere and I…I am not sure how to say this."

"Just say it," Kera said gently.

"I had…I had become her favourite. There were rumours in Ust Natha, of those who worshipped Eilistraee in secret. Some were found, and Matron Mother Ardulace had them executed. Others weren't."

"What happened?"

"I went up to the surface, and my scouting party…we ambushed fifteen elves. They were more prepared than we had believed, and there were only six of us." His eyes narrowed. "We killed eight of them, and they killed my five scouts."

"Were you hurt?"

"Yes," he said. "I got away from them, and ran, and lost myself in the forest. I was alone, and bleeding too much, and all I could see was the moon. I was found two nights later, and taken back to Ust Natha, and I went to the temple, and when I prayed, I was lying."

"Solaufein." She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"I am not," he said slowly. Thoughtfully, as if he was distracting himself, he found the end of her braid, undid the ties, and raked the strands back together, neater. "I wanted to tell Phaere about it."

"Did you?"

"No. I found that I couldn't. I wanted to, but…" He tugged the knot tight, and his hand lingered there, just above the small of her back. "I didn't. I wanted to, but she was taken into the temple, and when she came back, she was changed."

She said nothing, only turned slightly so that she was facing him properly. He gathered her closer against him, both arms around her waist, and her legs half across his, and they sat in silence.

* * *

Kera stood with one hand on her sword and looked again at the empty windows of the tavern. Behind her, more buildings stood, deserted, and with wind screaming through gaping casements.

"It's small," Jaheira said, low-voiced. "There can't have been more than two hundred people here."

"No bodies, nothing burned," Haer'Dalis mused. "No sign of any struggle. They knew to leave."

Kera shook her head. She waited, watching as Minsc and Valygar tracked their way back across from the stableyard behind the tavern.

"Nothing," Valygar said, and shrugged. "There's hoofprints in the stable that can't be more than three days old."

She knew small crossroads outposts got wind of rumours quickly, often from the lips of fast-riding couriers, but even so, her skin tightened uncomfortably. "We didn't see anyone leaving."

"The storerooms are full," Valygar said. "They'd be travelling light, light as they can."

"And going where?"

"South," Jaheira said. "That would take them away from us."

She glanced down at the rough earth between her feet, and wondered. What had been happening while she had been so intent on finding Imoen? What had been happening to cause this strange emptiness, and why had no one known?

"Kera," Jaheira said, and touched her arm. "Come. There's nothing to be done here."

She nodded slowly, and followed the druid across and past the slamming tavern doors, and away from the village.

The road stayed clear and the weather stayed warm and blustery. They passed abandoned campsites, some with firepits still heavy with charcoal, and at the fourth one, they found the wind-whipped bodies of men who had likely been mercenaries. Past a high stone ridge, they discovered more, this time pulled away from the path and pressed behind the rocks.

She looked at Solaufein, and read her own thoughts on his face. This was deliberate, clearly, and another quick glance at the dead men showed them stripped of their weapons. She moved forward carefully, the drow matching pace beside her. Up ahead, she saw Valygar freeze, his head tilted back as he listened. Behind her, someone's feet scraped against loose rock. She looked up, at the steep rock walls, grey and bare in the sunlight. Solaufein's fingers brushed hers, and she followed his gaze to where the line of the cliffs folded in sharply. The path disappeared somewhere beneath, winding into deep shadow.

Her shoulders prickled, and when the first arrow snapped out from somewhere above and cracked against the ground six feet in front of her, she flinched.

"Don't move," Solaufein breathed into her ear. "We need to see them."

She made herself stay still, and when the second arrow bit a chunk out of the rock somewhere behind Valygar's shoulder, she realised he was right; this was no attack, not yet at least.

"Show yourselves," Jaheira called out, firm and unwavering. "Show yourselves, now."

A woman responded, her voice low and insistent. "Drop your weapons."

Jaheira shook her head. "No."

"Have the girl lower her bow."

Kera glanced back and saw Imoen's grip slacken on her bow. Silence followed, broken only when she heard footfalls against the stone again.

Stepping out from beneath the sharp edge of the cliff face, she saw a woman, robed in deepest green. She moved with a serpentine kind of grace, and her pale, elegant features were set in an amused smile.

"It seems that I have found you at last," the woman said.

Kera gripped her sword hilt tighter and wondered about the woman's allies, the archers, and why they stayed hidden amid the rocks. "Your friends," she said. "Tell them to get themselves out into the open."

The woman sighed, and gestured with one hand. She waited until four men made their way out and past the high stone shelf behind her. "Satisfied?"

"Who are you, and why do you say that you have found us?"

"Because I have," the woman said, and her smile returned. "I was looking for you. Your Bhaalspawn scent is on you, girl. I would see it spilled out of your body instead."

"Why?" Kera asked, and her voice stayed steely. "Why would you be hunting me?"

"Because I am your sister, child. I share your father, as do many others, and we have not been wandering the lands like witless cattle."

_No_, Kera thought venomously. _Not my sister. Not our sister. _

"Great things are happening," the woman said. "You cannot know, can you, you who would shy from your birthright."

"My birthright is my business."

"No. No, child. It isn't. Not now. It cannot be."

"What is it," Kera said carefully. "What is it that has been happening?"

"Great things." The woman tipped her head to one side. "Your contribution shall be your death, and I have been chosen to give it to you."

"Chosen? Chosen by who?"

"Dear girl," the woman said, lightly. "That is hardly your concern, is it?"

Kera leaped first, pushing off with her left foot. She heard the whine of some spell, and Imoen chanting. Jaheira called out for Haer'Dalis to move, and move faster, _now_. She ploughed shoulder first into the woman, driving her back. Her hands flashed up, and the white tangle of a spell seethed across Kera's eyes and burrowed into her skin. She cried out and dropped, and rolled away. The next spell sliced against the ground behind her.

Solaufein launched past her, and she pushed up to her feet in time to see his sword raking across the woman's shoulder. She staggered, and the drow kicked her feet out. His sword lifted, and Kera cried out, "No! Don't. Wait."

"Wait?"

"Yes. I want to talk to her."

Solaufein kept the point of his sword lodged beneath the woman's chin. "As you will, then."

She looked up at the rocks, and saw Haer'Dalis poised over the crumpled shapes of two of the archers, both his swords running with blood. Across from him, Minsc and Valygar checked the other two, and Jaheira glided between the rocks, her eyes fixed on the ground.

"Now," Kera said quietly. "Your name."

"Illasera," the woman responded.

"Why were you sent?"

"You will see, child. You will not have the truth from me."

"Tell me."

"Ask and ask again, child. You will not hear it from me."

Kera stared down into the woman's pale, composed face. Was she a true assassin, she wondered, or a distraction, or merely some ill-planned scare tactic? "Where did you come from?"

The woman said nothing.

"Who sent you?"

"Kera," the woman said, softly. "I will say nothing."

She wanted to scream at the woman, to threaten her with sword and spell until she caved and said something, _anything_. She looked at Solaufein and said, "Let her up."

The drow frowned, but he made no comment, and his blade dipped away from the woman's throat.

She stood, unsteadily, and before she made it halfway, Kera drove her sword to the hilt in the woman's chest. Without speaking, she caught the woman's shoulder, and held on when she shuddered. The rich, heady scent of her blood as it spilled flooded her mouth. She lowered the woman to the ground, and her fingers were thick and glossy with it.

"She was telling the truth. She was a Bhaalspawn," Kera said, idly, and it seemed as if her own voice was very far away. She pushed her fingers against the blood where it mixed against the dust, and breathed in slowly. "I can smell it on her now."

Solaufein knelt beside her. "You could not before?"

"No."

"Come. We need to go."

She did not move. "Yes."

"Kera," he said, and clasped her hand. "Come with me."

She opened her mouth to agree, and some terrible jolting motion wrenched through her. She hit the ground hard, the breath startling from her lungs. She flailed for Solaufein's hand and could not find him. She screamed his name, and her fingers clenched against cold stone. She made herself look up, and she saw neither the path nor the rocks, nor the dead woman. _Solaufein_, she thought, and could not see him. White light shone somewhere above, and when she tried to see the arches of the ceiling, she failed. Hot air touched her lips, and the clinging scent of old blood, and she knew then that she was in her father's place.


	16. Ghosts

_As always, little belongs to me, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Sixteen – Ghosts**_

She walked, and each footstep against the stone scraped and echoed. She made herself look at the high curves of the walls and realised that it was not the same, not quite. She had seen no gates, and no path, and the greyness that blurred the distance was spotted with bright lights that hurt her eyes when she stared too long. She knelt, and brushed her fingertips against the dry stone. Smooth and hot, and curving slightly when she let her hands roam across it. When she breathed in, it seemed that she could taste it, and the way it unfurled around this place of her father's.

"I greet you, god-child."

The voice was measured, blade-sharp, and Kera froze. She did not turn. "Who are you?"

"I am not here to harm you." The voice stayed the same, and she heard nothing else, no sounds of movement or breathing or cloth rustling.

She gritted her teeth and turned, pushing up to her feet in the same motion. Light met her first, bright and golden. She squinted and saw a shape that might have been a woman's, the elegant slope of shoulders and coils of copper hair pinned above a face that was all hard, marble-white angles.

But this was no woman, she realised, no human woman. Wings curved up from the figure's shoulders, and the eyes that turned on her were stern and full of the same fierce light.

"Why," Kera said, and licked at her lips. "Why are you here?"

The woman smiled. "I am a servant of the gods, child, and of the path that was woven for you."

"Woven?"

"Woven and written for you, before ever you drew breath in this world."

She shifted her feet against the ground. "You mean the prophecy. You're talking about Alaundo."

"Yes. Alaundo was our servant. He wrote our words, and what you would do."

"What I _would_ do? He speaks of chaos," Kera said, and it came out clipped and harsh. "Chaos sown because of what Bhaal did."

"Yes. Chaos sown because Bhaal sowed his seed amid the women of your plane."

She flinched. "That's a nice way of putting it."

"Child," the woman said, and her eyes narrowed. "Kera. The time is coming for the blood that burns in all of Bhaal's children to be joined."

"Joined? So he can return. That's what was written, isn't it?"

"Yes. Are you ready?"

"For what?" Kera shook her head. "Chaos. Words. Riddles. I don't know what's going to happen, not really. I never have."

"Child," the woman said. "You are not ready. The time is coming when you _must_ be ready, and I will help you if I can."

"_You_ will help me?"

"Yes," the woman said, in the same tone. "I will help you. You have much to learn, child, and you must know that you are not alone."

* * *

She lay half across Solaufein's legs, and when he shifted to gather her closer, she still not stir. Her face was far too pale, and her lips were grey. Her skin was clammy, and her uneven breathing barely stirred the loose strands of her hair. Solaufein pulled her closer, and said, "She's cold. Very cold."

"Is she sweating?" Jaheira asked.

"She's running with it. Cold sweat." He slipped a hand under the hair at the nape of her neck. "She's like ice."

"Let me see." Very carefully, Jaheira knelt beside him. "Hold her still."

He obeyed, and tightened his arms around her until her head lolled against his shoulder. Jaheira touched her face, pressing her fingertips beneath her jaw, and exploring her throat.

"What's wrong with her?"

"I don't know," Jaheira answered. "It's as if she's asleep, but…"

Solaufein stared at her face, at how her eyes rolled beneath closed lids.

"She's somewhere else," Jaheira said.

"Somewhere else?" He thought of that place, the place where Irenicus had taken her soul when he died the first time, and how he had woken there. "Why?"

"I don't know."

"Jaheira," Valygar said, gently. "We need to move. Wind's changing."

The druid nodded heavily. "We'll have to carry her."

Solaufein carried her until his arms and his shoulders ached, and the terrain underfoot turned rougher. He passed her across to Minsc, and told himself it was the practical option; the ranger was all muscle, tall and broad, and besides, he would be of more use scouting with Valygar. The afternoon had worn away by the time they found a high, slanting shelf of rock, and the dry, sheltered ground beneath it. Jaheira busied herself scrounging a fire together, and Imoen paced, her face white and her eyes narrowed. Solaufein leaned back against the rock, and glanced up when Minsc ducked under the overhang, Kera still clasped against his chest. Very gently, the ranger knelt beside him, and murmured, "Do you want to hold her now?"

He looked into the man's dark, unsmiling eyes, and nodded. "Yes." He shifted onto his knees, and when the man let her weight slide into his arms, he cradled her carefully. "Minsc?"

The man paused, one hand braced up against the overhang. "Yes?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Thank you."

Minsc nodded. "Kera should not…she should not be hurt. We don't like seeing her hurt."

"No," Solaufein said.

The man left him alone then, alone with her propped against his shoulder. The shallow rhythm of her breathing had not changed, and the loose wisps of her hair against his face smelled of dust and dry air. He was tempted to call out for Jaheira, to ask her again if she knew what might be the matter, if she knew how to wake her. But no, he could not; he was a drow, and he was schooled to stillness and patience, even if every nerve beneath his skin was screaming.

He remembered the arena, and how his master Jysdril had called him down early, and told him his mettle was to be tested.

"_But when?"_

"_Tonight."_

"_That's…" He scowled. "That's a long time."_

"_Then spar. Keep your hands and your thoughts occupied."_

"_And if I can't?"_

"_Then risk distraction." Jysdril grinned and flipped a sheathed sword at him. "Come. Show me your grace and your skill." _

_He cleared the sword with a sharp ring of steel. "Why now, Master?"_

"_Your Matron Mother has asked for it."_

"_Asked for new blood, you mean."_

_Jysdril shook his head. "Keep those thoughts quiet."_

"_Don't I always?"_

"_No. You don't. Tighten your stance."_

_He obeyed, and an instant later, met the downward stroke of his master's blade. Jysdril did not push him, did not force him too fast or too ragged, simply let him spin and whirl and clash out his frustration in the small training room. Afterwards, he waited, standing still and patient until he was called to the arena. There, he stepped out through the gates and onto the stone that smelled of old, dried blood. How many times had he stood on the other side of the high wall, and watched some fighter or other carved apart beneath his opponent's sword? _

_He balanced his weight on both feet and waited, watching as the gates on the far side opened. Somewhere, far away it seemed, he could hear the calls and shouts of the crowd. Voices that were meaningless now, as he watched the light catch on his opponent's sword. He had seen this drow before, he was certain, at the guild and in the training rooms, and he was known for his swordplay. He tried to recall the other male's name and failed. The sword swung up in greeting, and then he was moving, twisting as he crashed into his opponent, ducking beneath the bright sweep of the blade. _

_He won, and he stood there, staring down at the other male's gutted body. He was bleeding, bleeding from a long gash across his shoulder, and another on his thigh, and a third that had opened his forehead. _

_Jysdril met him beyond the gates, and very carefully took the dripping sword from his hand. His master passed him a waterskin, and said, "You've been summoned."_

"_By who?" _

"_One of Matron Mother Ardulace's daughters." _

"_Which one?"_

"Solaufein?"

He flinched out of his thoughts, and looked up into Imoen's pinched, pale face. Her hazel eyes were narrow, and flickered.

"Yes?"

"How is she?"

Guiltily, he glanced down at Kera, at the spill of her hair against his shoulder. "The same."

"She looks so…" Imoen shrugged. "Don't know. Lost."

The girl sat beside him, and wrapped her arms around her shins. She was taller than her sister, and she was all arms and legs, and when she frowned, her whole face tightened. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"I want to ask you all sorts of things. I want to know…" She shrugged again. "It doesn't seem right, though. Not with Kera…you know. Like that."

He nodded slowly.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

He opened his mouth, thought about it, and eventually said, "What do you want me to say?"

She grinned, cracked lips stretching around her teeth. "I don't know. Surprise me."

"With what?"

"Never mind." Imoen sighed. Her head tipped back against the curve of the rock. Her fingers tapped against her legs, against the stone, and he heard her sigh. "I hate this."

"This?"

"Waiting and not knowing what's happening to her. I hate waiting. I've never been good at it."

"We have to be," he said. "Drow scouts spend half their time waiting, and the other half attempting to stay alive."

Imoen grinned. "No offence, but I also hated being a drow."

"I'm almost certain I would hate being turned into a surfacer," he retorted mildly. "You all made rather convincing drow, though."

"That's a compliment?"

"I suppose."

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Is she any warmer?"

He burrowed his fingers under the damp coils of hair at her nape and shook his head. "No," he said, and the word felt heavy in his mouth. "No, she's not."

* * *

She was alone again, or at least she thought she was, and when she reached out to touch the uneven curve of rock in front of her, it was warm. She needed to be back with the others, but every time she thought of them, and thought of the place she had been in, her mind wandered, and she pressed her hands flat against the rock again.

"Kera," Sarevok said from somewhere behind her. "Kera. Turn around."

Barely surprised, she obeyed, and looked up, at the broad slant of his shoulders, encased in metal, and his face, and his fierce lion's eyes. "Sarevok. Is it really you this time, or have I imagined you to torment me?"

"This time?"

"I was here some time ago." She shrugged, and part of her wondered why she was not afraid. "Or somewhere very like here. I saw you."

"Did you?" His golden eyes narrowed. "I have been waiting for you, little sister."

"Waiting?"

"Yes. You are still alive, and it seems you are stronger than I once thought. Than I once hoped."

"No," she said, and her tongue felt thick and numb behind her teeth. "I can't…Sarevok, no. I need to leave. I need to go."

"Go where?"

"Back." She scowled and tried to remember where she had been. She recalled the sharp press of dry stone, and Illasera's blood, and someone kneeling beside her and clasping her wrist. "I need to go back."

"Where?" He raised his hands, big and bluff and scarred. "This is our father's place, and you are shaping it with your thoughts every moment you stand before me."

"How?"

"It is yours, and his," he said. "I wish to make a deal with you."

She shook her head. Her fingers curled against her palms, cold and dry. "No."

"You cannot leave here," Sarevok said, every word soft and slow. "You cannot leave. I can help you, little sister, but you will have to listen to me, and you will have to help _me_."

"Help you?" She looked up into his face, and remembered that she had killed him, that she had seen him gasping his life out onto the stone beneath Baldur's Gate. "Why would you want that?"

"Because you are trapped here, and I want what you can give me."

"And what is that?" She turned, so that her shoulders were flat against the rock wall. She looked sidelong at him, huge and hulking in his armour. "What could you possibly want from me?"

"To live," Sarevok said, and the word hissed out. "To live again."

"No," she said. "You can't. You're dead."

"No, little sister. We are alike, you and I. Give me part of yourself."

"What?"

"Your soul," he said. He caught her arm and yanked her towards him. "Your _soul_, little sister. Give me a part of it, and I will live, and I will help you."

She stared down at his fingers where they were vised around her wrist. "Help me how?"

"Help you to leave."

"I can leave."

"No," Sarevok said, breathing the word into her face. "You can't. Look around. You were brought here, and you need to know how to leave here, or you never will."

Never leaving would mean nothing changing, she supposed, and for a brief, dazed moment, she wondered if that would be at all bad. Sarevok's hand was still clamped on her wrist, and she tried to remember the others, her friends.

_Her friends_, she thought again. There were six of them, she was sure.

"Well, little sister?"

"Yes," she said, haltingly. "What is it that you know? How can you help me?"

"This place," he answered, and his hand slipped away from her. "This place is full of gateways and doors. This place can call portals, and take you to places you need to be, but you will need to prove yourself."

"Prove myself?"

"It is a place of tests."

"What else?"

"You will learn it, as you grow stronger." He shrugged. "I came here to wait for you because I knew you would come. You need to let this place test you, and you will be able to use it to help you."

"Sarevok," she said. "You're not telling me anything helpful."

"Saradush," he snapped. "It has begun in Saradush. That time of which Alaundo spoke. The chaos that our brothers and sisters have sown in their wake. The blood that will spill across the Sword Coast has been shed first in Saradush. It is there you must go."

"I know that," she lied. "We are heading for Saradush."

"We?"

"My friends," she said, and when she searched for their names, she failed. "We…we are going there."

"Your blood will mark you, little sister. You will be known as a Bhaalspawn. You cannot hide and hope you are forgotten, not any more."

"Not any more?" She smiled. "Did you forget that I hunted you down in Baldur's Gate and killed you?"

"It is ending, little sister," Sarevok said, and his face stayed stern. "All of it. You must take the first test of this place and find your way back, and choose your path. Your fate is no small thing, little sister."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"So that I might live again."

"Live?" She smiled, wider, and grasped his hand. His thick fingers slid against hers, rough at the tips and strong. "You want to live."

"The ending of all this is not about me. I once thought it was. I once prayed that it was." One side of his mouth slid up. "I think that it is about you, little sister. I would live and see that."

"Would you?" She lifted his hand. "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"You must be tested, and you must go to Saradush. That is all."

"Very well." She looked down at his hand, wrapped around hers. Someone else had held onto her like this, desperately and fiercely. She remembered hands, agile and tender as they smoothed over the most delicate places on her body. She remembered breathing in time with someone else, swaying above him while he moved beneath her. "Sarevok?"

"Yes?"

"I will do it," she said, and looked up into his golden eyes. "I will give you part of my soul."

He smiled, and it split his face, and she wondered if she had ever seen him smile properly before. He wreathed his fingers through hers, and pulled her close enough that she could smell the scent of copper that clung to him. She let her other hand wander down to her belt, and to the hilt of her sword. Something prickled beneath her skin, and Sarevok gripped her tighter.

"Yes," Sarevok murmured. "Can you feel it?"

She could, and she could feel the cold sweat that broke out across her face. Somewhere deep inside her, something stirred, and she supposed it was her soul. She saw Sarevok's eyes half-close. His mouth moved wordlessly, and in one practiced motion, she unsheathed her sword and buried the blade in his throat. He staggered away from her, and she wrenched the sword free. She could smell his blood, rich and warm, and when his knees folded, and he hit the ground, she simply watched.

"I am ready," she said to the empty air. "I am ready to be tested."

* * *

The night fell, and Solaufein stayed there, sitting with his legs crossed and Kera wrapped around him. Her head was against his shoulder, and the breaths he could feel against his neck were shallow and too uneven. He supposed he should have moved, should have pushed up to his feet and carried her into the tent, but he found he could not, not while she was loose and still in his arms, and cold. He could see the fire, and Minsc's broad shape as he stood on watch.

She twisted against him, and he heard the shuddering inrush of her breath. She clawed at his shoulders, and he held on.

"It's me," he said. "Kera. It's me. You're alright."

She pressed her face against the side of his neck. Her whole frame shook, and when she spoke, her voice was thin and tired. "Solaufein."

"Yes?"

"Nothing. I…" She lifted her head. "Solaufein. That's your name."

"Yes," he said, warily. "Can you tell me what happened?"

"How long have I been asleep?"

"All of the afternoon, and most of the night."

She was silent for a long moment. "That's a long time."

"Yes."

She moved, shifting herself until she sat across his lap, her legs twined around his waist and her chin on his shoulder. "Solaufein. Something happened, and…can I tell you?"

He said nothing, only let his hands play through her hair, and listened as she told him of a woman who had been made of light, or so it had seemed. A woman who promised help and yet showed none, not yet. She kept saying his name, over and over, and when he tightened his arms around her, she did not stop shaking. She mentioned her brother, the man she had killed, and her voice quavered.

"I lied to him," she said. "I told him I would help, and then I did not."

"He killed your father," Solaufein said carefully. "You faced him in battle before and killed him."

"I know."

"It was the right choice," he said. "It was the only choice."

"I know, I just…" She shook her head. "I forgot about you."

"What?"

"I couldn't...I knew I had to get out. But I couldn't remember you. I forgot your name. I forgot everyone's name."

He combed his hands through her hair, and could think of nothing to say.

"Solaufein." She murmured his name again, as if testing it against her lips. "Solaufein."

She told him of how the walls had rippled around her, while she stood with her heels in her brother's blood. She told him how she had seen shapes in the stone, and how they had been faces of those she had seen die, or maybe those she had dreamed of, and how she was not at all certain. There had been a woman called Tamoko, and men, and a boy who had died in a forest somewhere, and his sisters. She had heard them, their voices rushing and wailing inside her head, and she had lasted until the silence returned.

"Kera." He leaned his cheek against hers, so that he could murmur into her ear. "What does it mean?"

"All of it? I don't know. After they…after the voices stopped, the place let me go."

"It let you go? Or you left?"

"I don't know. If Sarevok wasn't lying, then perhaps I left because I wanted to. Because I could."

"And the woman?"

"I don't know," she said again. "Perhaps she will help us. Perhaps not."

"Do you want her to?"

"Yes," she said, and the word came out hushed. "I think so. I feel as if…I feel as if everything's happening too fast. I would like it if she helped. If she was not lying." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to think straight and my thoughts are everywhere."

"Don't be sorry."

"We're making a habit of this."

"Of what?"

"Me, waking up, and you, looking after me."

"I'm not looking after you," he said, thickly. "I'm just sitting here."

"Oh?" She smiled, and he felt her lips move against the side of his face. "Thank you for just sitting here."


	17. Strangers

_As always, little belongs to me. Thank-yous as ever to everyone who is following this story. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Seventeen – Strangers**_

The morning broke clear and crisp. Kera paced while Jaheira and Valygar folded and packed the tents, and Haer'Dalis shoved a mug of hot tea into her hands and ordered her to drink it. When Imoen muttered something about his maternal instincts, the tiefling glowered and took far too long in thinking up a suitably waspish reply.

She gulped down the tea and stared at the ground. She explained, in a rush of words that tripped into each other. She explained where she had been when she had been asleep, and what she had seen.

"Portals," Haer'Dalis said. "Your brother said that place could conjure portals?"

"If he wasn't lying, yes. Or that I could conjure portals in it."

Imoen shook her head. "Don't portals need something that opens them? Like a stone? Or a key?"

"Often," the tiefling allowed. "But this place…if truly it moves and breathes due to the presence of Bhaal's children, then they might be able to bend it."

"Or not," Kera said tersely. "You would really want _my thoughts_ in charge of opening a portal and hoping that it worked?"

Haer'Dalis smiled. "Perhaps we are not that desperate, my raven, not yet. But we might be, as might you. Do not disregard such notions so quickly."

"I'm not disregarding anything. I just don't want to risk it. Not yet."

"Then you want to make for Saradush?" Jaheira asked.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose so."

"As you would have it," Haer'Dalis said, and grinned. "And, my raven? Do not spirit yourself away again. Not without _some_ warning, yes?"

Imoen nudged the tiefling sharply. "My goodness. Have you actually got a soul in there somewhere?"

Kera hid her smile and turned away, and slung her pack across her shoulders. She matched pace with Solaufein as they followed the curving, rocky sweep of the path as it swung away from the cluster of stone shelves. The drow moved with cat-quiet steps, and when she glanced sidelong at him, she thought she could see weary shadows around his eyes and his mouth. He had barely slept, she knew. She recalled waking more than once in the few hours she had dozed, waking to him beside her, one hand cupped protectively over her shoulder, and the other twined in her hair, and his eyes open and watchful.

"You are looking at me," the drow murmured.

She smiled, a little guiltily. "And here I thought I was being stealthy."

"Not at all."

"You look tired," she said.

"I am fine."

"You look tired," she repeated. "I think I have spent long enough now looking at you that I can tell."

"You are right." He sidestepped a large, loose chunk of rock. "I…found resting last night difficult."

"I'm sorry."

"No," he said. "I did not mean…I meant only that I had trouble resting."

She nodded slowly, and wondered why she felt a sudden, strange twinge in the pit of her stomach. "Yes. I understand."

"No." He stopped, and scowled. He caught her hand, and tugged her aside, waiting until Imoen marched past and shot a mischievous smirk over her shoulder at them. "No, I didn't mean it like that, either. I meant…can I tell you?"

"Of course you can."

"Whenever you slept," he said. "Whenever you slept next to me last night, I kept wondering if it was because you were just dreaming, or if you were…elsewhere. I could not tell the difference."

"Solaufein."

"And then in the morning you were still there, and I…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry. I'm slowing us down."

She nodded again, and squeezed his hand, hard. "You…will still want to sleep next to me?"

"How can I make sure you are still here if I don't?"

* * *

The long, dry days brought rippling grey clouds, and the wind blowing in from the south was heavy and freighted with dust. The road twisted through low, brown foothills, and past high, swaying pine trees. In the deep shadows of the trees, they saw more than a few caravans, tipped over and emptied out, drapes left torn and half rotten across broken bits of wood. Fires glowed on the slant of a hillside, but a quick foray after dark on a blustery evening found nothing but embers, still warm.

Solaufein paced beside Valygar, his head bent against the press of the wind and his eyes on rough earth beneath the ranger's feet. They had passed a deserted campsite near noon, and Jaheira had asked for silence when they pressed on.

The road crested up and over a low hill, and Valygar held a hand up. Solaufein nodded back and waited. He could hear the ranger's footfalls, cautious and quiet. The wind raked his hair away from his face again, and he breathed in. _Smoke_, he thought. Not close by, probably nowhere near in fact, and spun on the wind. Carefully, he padded over the cusp of the hill, and motioned Valygar back.

"Smoke," he murmured. "Can you smell it?"

Valygar frowned. "No. Close?"

"No. Coming in from the south."

They moved on as quietly, and Jaheira gestured him towards her. "Will you stay up at the front with Valygar?"

"To scout? Of course."

The druid nodded, and he saw the tight lines around her eyes. "Thank you."

Solaufein nodded back, and could think of nothing else to say. Instead, he strode on, and past Kera, and felt the brush of her fingers against his wrist, and smiled. Part of him wanted to turn and look at her, but he knew he would see the strange shadows in her eyes, and his thoughts would scatter.

The afternoon wore on, and brought the smoke thick on the air, unreeling in dark plumes above a high stand of pine. He motioned for Valygar to stop, and they waited as the others closed the distance behind. He breathed in slowly and remembered how the surface elves had died once, screaming amid flames while their tents burned and he hid his eyes against the glare.

Small fingers pressed against his, and Kera murmured, "Losing yourself in there?"

He blinked, and answered before he could think better of it. "I was remembering a surface raid."

She nodded, and did not press him. Beneath the loose strands of her hair, she was pale, and he could smell the sweat that flecked her temples. He wondered if he should reach for her, if he should let her lean against him, or if he should dare the presumption of wrapping an arm around her in view of her friends.

"Saradush," Jaheira said grimly. "It can't be anything else. Kera, I want you with me. Solaufein and Valygar as well."

Imoen opened her mouth, frowned, and said, "Well, I guess I'll be waiting here, then."

"Yes," Jaheira said. "You will."

The druid led them up and through the close press of the trees, and Solaufein noticed her measured, soundless steps against the thick sweep of fallen pine needles. He recalled how she had seemed in Ust Natha, her eyes fierce and red and challenging, her face bold beneath wild coils of white hair.

_The taller female tilted her head. "He's coming with us? Why?"_

"_Because he helped me," Veldrin snapped. "Because he didn't have to. Because he only _stayed_ to help us."_

"_He's a drow."_

"_He helped me." Veldrin – Kera, he remembered, she had said her name was Kera – shook her head. "He can't stay here. He doesn't have anywhere else to go."_

_The other female turned and looked at him thoughtfully, and he had to fight the sudden urge to back away, or turn his hands palm-up and prove he was no threat. "Very well," she said. "This is your choice, Kera." _

At the crest of the hill, Jaheira stopped, and swallowed. She sank down onto one knee and gestured, and said nothing. Solaufein followed, and crouched on his heels beside the druid. He heard Kera and the ranger behind him, pine branches scraping against leather. The slope dropped away, and the line of trees thinned. The wide slash of what might have been a road curved across dry, dusty ground. On either side, pennants snapped above tents, and soldiers moved in gleaming formation between them. Solaufein breathed in slowly, carefully, and tried to guess numbers, and came up hopelessly lost. There were many of them, too many of them, and somewhere beyond the mass of tents and wagons and horses and catapults, he saw the walls of Saradush.

Smoke streamed from two of the high towers, and when he squinted, he could see dark shapes along the walls, and the air all thick with dust near the gates.

Kera shifted behind him, and the sudden pressure of her mouth against his ear nearly made him flinch.

"The south walls," she murmured. "Look at the south walls."

He did, and at first spotted nothing more than soldiers at the walls, firing back madly, and a wizard, sending great swirls of magic down onto the attackers below. He looked down, and past three lines of soldiers, and his stomach twisted.

"Giants," Kera muttered. "Fire giants?"

"Yes," Jaheira said. "And a lot of them."

_Fire giants_, Solaufein thought. He had never seen such creatures, and had rarely heard of them, even in the stories the males at the Guild told. They were tall, terribly tall, he could see, slabbed with muscle and towering above their armoured human allies. One of them raised a sword and shouted. A catapult released, and he watched something huge and on fire arc and crash, spilling flame against the walls of Saradush.

* * *

Kera crossed the distance between the trees again, fists clenched. "Fire giants," she repeated, aware of how obvious she must sound. "Fire giants."

"Well," Imoen muttered. "At least we know why we didn't see anyone on our way here."

"Those soldiers are entrenched," Valygar said. "This didn't start a few days ago."

"Which means they might be low on supplies." Kera whirled away again, and pressed her hands against the pine tree. "There were _thousands_ of them outside the walls. Thousands."

"Kera," Jaheira said. "What do you want to do?"

"I want to turn around and walk away."

"We can't."

"I want to turn around and walk away and pretend that I never, ever, heard my dead brother telling me that it would begin in Saradush. That it has already _begun_ in Saradush."

"Kera."

"I know." She dug the tips of her fingers into the rough bark. "But I don't know how we can get inside. There's too many of them. We'd never make it through."

"Carefully and at night," Haer'Dalis said. "Though I wouldn't place a miser's bet on our chances."

"No." Kera shook her head. "There are Bhaalspawn down there. I don't know which side of the walls they'll be on. Maybe both. We wouldn't make it through."

"Then what else?"

"I don't know." She spun again. "I don't know."

Haer'Dalis folded his arms. He waited until she was facing him again, and she saw that stern, set expression that she rarely saw on his face. "Come now, my raven," the bard said. "We are perhaps desperate enough, are we not?"

"No."

"What other choice is there?"

"_No_."

"Kera," the bard said, in the same tone.

"I don't know how to make a portal."

"Yes, you do." His face softened slightly. "My raven. When you are given little time to consider things, you are most foolishly brave."

She glared at him. "Stop. Now."

"You dived without thought into the conduit Miss Raelis called," he reminded her. "You worked your way through the thralls and the maze."

"No," she said again. "That was different. The portal was…well, it was Raelis' portal." She wanted to scream at the tiefling, wanted to tell him to take his placid expression and planar aloofness somewhere else. "It was different."

"Yes," Haer'Dalis said. "It was different. But we have little choice."

"Kera," Imoen said, and grabbed her hand. "Just…try it. Please try it."

"What if I get it wrong?"

"I don't think you can get it wrong."

She fought back the sudden, wild need to laugh. She reached out with her other hand, and found Solaufein's, wiry and gloved. She looked at him, and when he smiled slightly, some of the tension seeped out of her.

"Armies," she muttered. "Armies march and cities burn."

She breathed in deeply, again and again, until she could feel nothing past the insistent thump of her heart. The inside of her mouth tasted of the smoke of Saradush, and she wondered again what lay beyond the walls. _The blood of Bhaalspawn_, she thought, and the pine trees collapsed around her in a vicious, wrenching lurch. Her feet scraped against stone, and when she opened her eyes, she looked up at the twisting, dark shapes.

"Oh." Imoen's fingers tightened around hers. She giggled, and it came out high-pitched and uncertain. "It worked."

"Half worked," Valygar said, and his face was set in a deep scowl. "We still need to get inside the city."

"Give her time," Imoen muttered. "Give _me_ time, even."

Kera prised her hand out of her sister's. On her other side, Solaufein stood silently, his red eyes narrowed as he looked up at the high stone arches. "Are you alright?"

"Am _I _alright?" His face relaxed. "I am fine. It looks different, yes?"

"Yes."

"Because you chose to come here?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I'm frightened."

"Of what we will find?"

"Yes. And…I don't know." She looked at him for a moment longer, and then she moved, until her face was against the side of his neck, and her arms were around his waist.

His arms wrapped around her in response, and he sighed something.

"Solaufein?" She lifted her head, and quite firmly ignored Imoen's laughter behind her. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I just…realised something."

"Will you tell me later?"

His smile widened, and he murmured into her ear, "Only because you asked so nicely."

Reluctantly, she pulled away from him, and did not let herself look at her sister. She could see Saradush behind her eyelids, the towers wreathed in smoke, and the walls ringed with soldiers and giants and loaded catapults. How long, she wondered, could any city stand, so threatened? And what had brought so many men and so many giants to bring arms against it?

_Full of gateways and doors_, Sarevok had said, and she was almost certain he had not been lying.

_A place that could take her to where she needed to be_.

_Saradush_, she thought. _Need to be in Saradush_.

It happened as silently and as wrenchingly as before, and the stone walls crumpled. Her feet hit something solid, and the impact drove the breath from her lungs. She heard shouting, and someone ordering for weapons to be drawn. She opened her eyes to bright light and chaos, and a man's voice as he yelled for his soldiers to move forward.

"Wait!" Kera stepped forward, one hand dropping to her sword hilt. "Please, wait!"

Overhead, something heavy smacked against stone. She made out the edges of walls on either side, and puddles in front of her, and nearly a dozen soldiers, all of them thin and worn.

"Out of the air," said the man, and his voice was rough. "You appear out of the air. What trickery is this?"

"No trickery," Kera said desperately. "Please. No trickery."

"You appear out of the air with no sound and no spells," he said. "Who are you?"

"My name is Kera. Please. Help me and tell me what's happening."

"What's happening?" His mouth creased into a cold smile. "What's happening is that this city's almost lost. Are you blind?"

"No."

"Are you a Bhaalspawn?"

"What?"

"Are you?" The man frowned. "You've come here like so many of them have. Are you?"

She shook her head wildly. "Put your sword down and we can talk about it."

"Are you a Bhaalspawn?" the man demanded again, and his voice cracked. "Are you another one of them?"

"Look," she managed, and the rest of her words were lost when Minsc hauled her to one side. She heard something heavy clang against the stone nearby, and footsteps. The man shouted again, raggedly ordering his soldiers to form up and press forward. She rolled up to her feet and cleared her sword in the same motion. She was aware of Jaheira as she snaked her way past, already calling for Imoen to stay back and string her bow. Another shuddering stroke from Minsc's mace sent another soldier staggering back against the wall.

She turned, met the downswing of a soldier's sword. Overhead, something roared, and she flinched. She squinted up and saw a huge rock, trailing fire, as it spun overhead and slammed full-force into the tower walls.

"Kera!" Solaufein's shoulder drove against hers, toppling her. The soldier's sword bit through the empty air above her, and the drow filled the space between. He spun, and the vicious, low sweep of his blade sent the soldier stumbling.

"Wait, please. _All of you_. Please!"

A woman's voice, Kera realised, and when she heaved herself up to her feet, she saw that the soldiers had stopped. Their eyes were cast down, and their hands at their hilts were not steady. Solaufein was poised beside her, blood falling in thick runnels from his sword.

"Now," the woman said, and Kera looked past the soldiers, and saw her. She was tall, and simply clad in grey. A bright spill of red hair coiled past her shoulders. "Weapons down, and quickly, and we'll have no more of this." The soldiers obeyed, slowly. The woman motioned them away briskly, and turned blue eyes on Kera again. "Will you offer me the same courtesy?"

She gauged the distance to the woman and wondered at her plain grey garb, and at the unhesitating, sharp edge to her voice. "No," Kera said. "Not until you tell us who _you _are."

"Very well." The woman smiled. "I am Melissan, and I bid you welcome to Saradush."

"Welcome, is it?"

"Of course. This is a place of refuge."

"Refuge," Kera said, and did not lower her sword. "This place is about to come down in flames."

"And yet you came here," the woman said. "Forgive me. You must all be tired. I can find you a place to rest and eat, if you wish it. You will be safe."

Kera stared at the woman, at her lucid blue eyes and pale skin. "Why would you help us?"

"You fell out of the air, did you not?" The woman's mouth curved into another smile. "Out of the air, and into Saradush. We have many Bhaalspawn here now, and I would see all of them safe."

"Why…what makes you say we're Bhaalspawn? Any of us?"

"My friend, you came here. You were drawn here. Why else?"

"Why, though?" Kera said. "Why help us?"

"Because I will not see so many people fall beneath the foolishness that keeps this city besieged and under threat," the woman said, and her voice rose. "I am sorry. You are tired, all of you. Will you come with me, and let me find you somewhere to rest?"

"For what price?"

"No price," the woman said, and shook her head. "None, save that perhaps you will listen to me, and hear what I have to say."


	18. Besieged

_**Chapter Eighteen – Besieged **_

She followed the woman past the corner at the end of the alleyway, and out, across a wide plaza. She looked up, and at the towers above, and the smoke that coiled up, thick and dark. On the high walls between, she saw soldiers, and wizards, and men running frantically. Beneath her feet, the cobbles were slick with water. The woman led them across another square, and past houses that were missing roofs. She hurried them past the gaping ruins of what might have been gardens, the grass turned black and the high pillars toppled. The woman motioned them across a small courtyard, and up steps, and into the musty warmth of a tavern.

There, she nodded silently to the innkeeper, and led them through the twisting warren of corridors into a small room. The windows were boarded, and small spots of light broke through and touched the rough edge of the long table.

"Now," Kera said, before the woman closed the door. "Leave the door open and tell us whatever it is you want us to know."

The woman paused, her hands knotted. "I must know first if you mean this city or the Bhaalspawn within it harm of any kind."

"Why would we want to harm Bhaalspawn?"

"They are blamed," Melissan said. "They are blamed for the siege, and soon, they will be blamed for every single death inside these walls."

"Why?"

"Because the army outside is led by a Bhaalspawn. A giant, and he goes by the name of Yaga-Shura."

"A _fire giant_ Bhaalspawn?" Imoen's face twisted. "That means that Bhaal mated with…"

"Yes." The woman nodded. "He would kill all Bhaalspawn he can find."

Kera nodded slowly. "Are there many Bhaalspawn in the city?"

"Yes. I…brought them here."

"What?"

The woman shrugged. Her blue eyes darted, and her hands jumped to the ruffled spill of her skirts, smoothing and pulling at the fabric. "I thought it best. Before the siege began, I thought it best. That they might have some way to be safe. Yaga-Shura's army was everywhere, and it seemed the best option."

"_You_ are no Bhaalspawn," Kera said carefully. "Are you?"

"No." The woman shook her head. "I am not. I merely…I wanted to help. I wanted them safe, but Yaga-Shura came for them anyway."

"How are the foodstores?" Jaheira asked briskly. "Weapon supplies?"

"Enough for now," Melissan said. "But _now_ will not last long."

"And when supplies run low," Valygar said, his voice heavy. "It's usually not the soldiers who are troubled first. Who's controlling them?"

Melissan whirled to face him. "The soldiers? In the castle, there is a…a general, of sorts. He is part orc, and he was a mercenary, and he brought soldiers here, to Saradush, to help defend."

"And now?" Jaheira demanded.

"He stays in the castle, and he keeps his lackeys around him. He will do nothing to help the people here, and his soldiers do as they wish." Melissan shook her head and added, "His name is Gromnir Il-Khan, and he has refused all calls for help."

"How do you know all this?"

"I brought him here," the woman answered, and her gaze flicked down. "I brought him here, with his followers. He is a Bhaalspawn."

Kera rubbed at the back of her neck. "He's a Bhaalspawn."

"Yes. He retreated into the castle some days ago. His men move in and out with supplies, and sometimes women, and that is all."

Kera nodded slowly. Her shoulders were stiff beneath her leathers, and she licked at dry lips. "And what is it you're hoping _we_ can do about this?"

"Gromnir," the woman said. Her hands skittered up and twisted at the loose, gleaming ends of her red hair. "You must approach Gromnir. Talk to him. Make him see reason."

"And you think we'll do that for you, do you?"

"You are strong," the woman said, and her voice trembled. "Would you stand aside? Would you let him crush the city from inside the walls? Give no resistance to Yaga-Shura?" When Kera did not reply, the woman added, "You can stay here. All of you. You can stay, and you will be given food and somewhere to rest. For as long as you need. I will help you. I know how you might get into the castle. I can help you, and maybe…"

"Yes," Kera said. "Alright. We'll think on what you've told us."

"Thank you." Melissan smiled slowly. "Thank you, my friend. Perhaps I might hear your answer tomorrow?"

"Yes. Of course."

The woman nodded again, and when she led them back through to the taproom, she called for food and drink, and the keys to as many rooms as the newcomers might wish. She caught Kera's hand, and squeezed with slender, pale fingers.

"Please," Melissan said. "I know you may feel you have come here entirely accidentally, but perhaps you can help us."

* * *

The moon rose, and beyond the tavern windows, the night was broken by the flash and flare of magic at the walls. The innkeeper barred the main door, and two harried-looking men stood guard on either side. After finishing a plateful of cold meat and bread and a bowl of steaming soup, Kera clasped Solaufein's hand and led him up the stairs and into the room on the second floor. As promised, she opened the door to a heaped fire and a wooden bathtub, and she could not quite hide her pleased sigh. She had her boots partway off even as Solaufein closed the door. With her eyes greedily on the hot water, she shucked the rest of her clothes and launched herself into the tub. Finally immersed neck-deep, she sighed and leaned back. Through half-closed eyes, she saw Solaufein observing her with a wry smile. "Yes?"

He shook his head, slowly began unlacing his boots. "I didn't know surfacer females could _fly_."

She pouted at him and dunked her head under the water. She came up spluttering, her hair plastered. Through dripping water, she watched him peel off his shirt, and smiled. His hands moved slowly to his belt, stopped, and darted instead to the packs left heaped near the door.

Kera groaned. "Take your clothes off and stop teasing me."

Solaufein laughed. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his leggings down. He crossed the floor and gently eased himself into the tub. He sat opposite her, his legs sliding against hers and the white ends of his hair wicking up water. "Better?"

She eyed him appreciatively. "Much."

"This woman," he said. "Melissan."

"Yes." Kera sighed. "No, I don't trust her. Not really."

"Why should she know so much about Bhaalspawn, and their comings and goings?"

"There's that. I don't know. I don't like that she was just there, right on time to help us."

"She is not a Bhaalspawn?"

"No. I don't know. I don't think so. She said she wasn't, but..." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I don't know. I'm sorry."

"No." Very gently, he took her wrists, and guided her hands away from her face. "Do not be sorry."

"I asked Haer'Dalis if he'd ask around downstairs about her. Maybe outside in the city as well." When the drow tipped his head slightly, she added, "He's good at it. People tell him things. And then I suppose we'll have to decide what to do about this Gromnir."

"Stop," he said, quietly. "This city will not fall tonight. There is some time left, still. You are very tired."

"You're certain it won't fall tonight?" She smiled, a little bitterly. "Nothing's certain."

"No, and for that very reason, chasing your thoughts in circles helps nothing. Not now. May I wash your hair?"

"Oh," she said, and blinked. "Of course."

With agile, slender hands, the drow soaked her hair and rubbed soft soap into the wet tresses. He massaged her hair and scalp carefully, as if he might hurt her with some rough, sudden movement. "Does that feel better?"

"Mmm. Feels wonderful."

"Good." He kissed her forehead lightly, then ladled handfuls of water over her head. "Your hair is darker now." He wrapped a soaked ribbon of her hair around his hand. "Beautiful."

"Thank you." She reached out and loosened the leather ties that kept his hair braided at his temples. "Should we take the rings out of your ears?"

"Why?"

"I want to wash your hair," she said, and felt heat crawl up the back of her neck. "And the rest of you. And I don't want to hurt you."

Solaufein smiled. "You won't hurt me."

He lifted the soap again, but she pried it out of his hands, and ignored his slight frown. "No," she said, when he shifted uncomfortably. She pulled the ties out, and feathered the braids apart. "I meant it. Sit there and let me wash your hair. You're as filthy as I was."

He stilled beneath the insistent motion of her fingers. He stayed like that, his eyes half closed, as she sluiced away the dust and the dirt. She lifted his arm next, and ran the soap along the inside of his forearm.

"May I ask you something?"

She rubbed the lather into his skin, and answered, "Of course you can."

"When did you first kill?"

She paused, then slid the soap over his elbow. "The day everything changed. The day I left Candlekeep." She leaned forward, scrubbed at his chest and shoulders. "Back when I thought it was just going to be a normal day. I knew Gorion wanted to talk to me about something, but I didn't know what."

Solaufein leaned back to let her clean under his chin and around his throat. "What happened?"

"I was on my way to the stables. There was a man in there. He said his name was Shank. I'll never know why he wanted to tell me." She brushed the wet waves of his hair back over his shoulders. "And he tried to kill me. I remember that I didn't scream. I didn't even panic. Not properly, anyway. It was like everything went very slow. Strange." She picked up Solaufein's hands, rubbed soap into the creases and grime left from days on the road. "I jumped away from him, and when he came after me, we both ended up falling over. He tried to pin me, and I kicked him between the legs. He still tried to stab me, but he missed. And somehow I got the knife off him. He was on top of me, and I just pushed up with it. And do you know the oddest thing?"

Solaufein shook his head silently.

"Once I got it into his skin, it went in easily. But getting it _through _his clothes was the hardest part. He was wearing a leather tunic – one of those tunics covered in rivets. And the leather felt _so hard_, but his skin didn't." Her fingers trembled against his shoulder, and she blinked.

Solaufein gathered her against his chest. "I am sorry. I should not have asked."

"No, it's alright. There are…well, there are a lot of names between him and this half-orc Bhaalspawn I suppose we'll be killing tomorrow."

"There are a lot of names for me," he said. "In the arena, and on the surface, and at the guild house."

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

She shook her head. "I don't know."

She reached down between them, and heard his shuddering inhalation when she trailed her hand along his thigh. His hands tightened in her hair, and his lips found hers. She shifted so that her legs were around him, and when she sank onto him, he groaned out her name. He moved slowly beneath her, and when she tried to guide him faster, he shook his head.

"No," Solaufein murmured, into her ear. "Like this. Let me."

He held onto her, both arms wrapped around her, and each slow rocking motion of his hips sent her sliding against him. The rough wood of the tub was hard beneath her knees. The thick, sodden hanks of her hair kept slipping into her eyes, so she closed them and pressed her face into his shoulder. When her climax swept through her, and left her boneless and shaking against him, he did not let go of her. She stayed coiled around him until the water turned tepid, and then she let him help her over the edge of the bathtub, and they idled on the bed, half-wrapped in towels.

"Your skin," Kera said, and traced the back of his forearm. "You are beautiful."

"Beautiful?" He smiled. "That's not usually how surfacer females talk about their males, is it?"

"Probably not. It's still true."

He touched her throat, and his fingers wandered past her collarbones, and lower. "Your skin is red here." Curiously, he brushed her stomach and her side. "The heat in the water?"

"Yes," she said, and grinned. "I'm fairly certain I can't blush there."

"I like it. It's as if…I don't know. I like it." His smiled turned lopsided. "We are…very different, aren't we?"

"Yes. Very different. I will never be able to tell if you've been warmed up properly by having a bath."

He stared at her for a long moment. "That…was a terrible joke."

"I know." She leaned her head against the crook of his shoulder. "Forgive me?"

"I suppose I can."

"You suppose?" She let her hand roam down the hard, lean muscle that corded his chest. "You said," she murmured, a little uncertainly. "When we were in Bhaal's place, you said you realised something. Will you tell me?"

"Before we reached Saradush, I wanted…I wanted to hold you. I wanted you in my arms. You looked very tired, and I wanted…" He shrugged. "And I did not, because I wondered what your friends would think. I wondered what you would think, in front of your friends."

"And after?"

"After, you came to me." He smiled slowly. "In your father's place. And I realised it didn't matter. Is that foolish?"

"No," she said, and rolled against him, so that they were cleaved together, hip to shoulder. She wound her arms around his neck, and heard him sigh. "No, it isn't."

* * *

The morning brought pale sunlight through the half-closed curtains, and someone pounding insistently at the door. Kera disentangled herself from the warm sprawl of Solaufein's limbs. She found her shirt, and pulled it on over the thick tangles of her hair, and snapped out, "Yes, who is it?"

"It's Imoen," her sister called. "You need to get up."

She yanked her leggings back on, flicked the sheets up over Solaufein's hips, and made it to the door before her sister could knock again. "What's happened?"

"That woman. Melissan."

"Yes?"

"She's…something's happened to her." Imoen shrugged. "The innkeeper, he's beside himself. You need to come down and talk to him."

"Alright. We'll be there." She closed the door and turned, and saw Solaufein sitting up, his hair spilling in delightful disarray over his shoulders. "It was always going to be too much to hope for, wasn't it?"

"What was?"

"That we might get the morning to ourselves as well."

"Ah." He padded across to the door and stopped in front of her. "We had the evening and the night. That is…something, yes?"

"Yes," she said, and when he brushed his thumb across the curve of her cheekbone, she ached. "It is something."

* * *

Downstairs, they discovered the taproom almost deserted, and the innkeeper pacing, both hands locked together.

"Kera," Jaheira said, from where she stood near the door. "We need to make a decision, and quickly. Melissan was taken into the castle before dawn this morning."

"Into the castle?" She frowned. "Did this Gromnir have anything to do with it?"

"We figure so," the innkeeper said, and his voice came out threaded with fear. "There's too many gone into that castle who've never come out again, unless they're with Gromnir's men."

"Why now?"

"She helped us when we arrived," Imoen said thoughtfully. "She helped us, and we killed three of his soldiers."

"Perhaps." She pressed her knuckles against her eyes. "Very well. Into the castle, then?"

"You'd best be careful," the innkeeper said. "And take yourselves in through the prison way."

"The prison way?"

"The old corridors there, under the old prison," the man qualified. "They go on under the castle, and up into it. Safer than asking to be let in at the gates, I'd reckon."

"Maybe," Valygar said, and frowned. "And yet…could we not ask for an audience? If we're found sneaking in, this Gromnir will assume nothing good."

"True." Kera rolled her shoulders and wished suddenly for open air, for sunlight, and doors that were not locked to keep away the sounds of the siege. "How many men in the castle?"

"Gromnir's personal guard," the innkeeper answered. "That'd put them in the dozens, at least."

"She asked if we'd _approach_ Gromnir, not attack his castle," Kera said. "I don't think…I don't know." She turned away, bracing her elbows against the bar. She tried to force her thoughts calm and practical, and failed. "Jaheira," she murmured. "I don't know what to do. I didn't expect…"

"I know," the druid answered. "I had hoped we might have more time. Whatever you choose, Kera, it must be quick."

"The gates," Kera said sharply. "We go to the gates, and we beg an audience. If they turn us away, or if it turns into a fight, well, then we worry about sneaking in the hard way."

While Jaheira informed Imoen that she was to stay far enough back to be safe, and behind Minsc, just to be sure, Kera caught Haer'Dalis' elbow and guided him across to the boarded windows.

"Our flame-haired new friend has done nothing but good," the bard murmured, and shrugged. "At least, that is what yon innkeeper told me at least three times last night."

"And?"

"And his serving girls say the same. The stable boy thinks she is far to pretty to be hiding her beauty behind grey skirts and old shoes, and the mercenary who guards the door in here every night wonders why she bothers helping the Bhaalspawn at all."

"What about you?"

"Me? Ah, my raven. I think she is a poor actress, and I think she overplays her lines and frowns too much, and it makes me wonder why." The bard smiled, and it did not lighten the planes of his face. "I cannot see why she would have such an interest, though perhaps that means I have little faith in anyone. Especially since it seems that _I_ have an interest in the fate of Bhaalspawn."

Kera grinned, tiredly. "Only two, though, I hope?"

"Any more and my nerves would shatter one by one, I assure you."

"Very funny. Haer'Dalis?"

"I am still here, my raven."

"Thanks," she said, and nudged him gently.

* * *

Outside, the air was too warm and smelled of burned wood and dry stone. Kera walked alongside Solaufein, and tried to keep her hand loose around her sword hilt. In the wide avenues, she saw children hiding behind half-toppled pillars, their clothes filthy and torn and their faces wide and afraid. She remembered the children in the slave quarters in Athkatla, and how Lehtinan had arranged for them to be held in chains, and how he had died, gasping out an apology. There had been children at the keep as well, though Nalia had not shared that until they arrived and saw the smoke twisting from the high towers, and saw the trolls on the walls.

"Kera," Solaufein said, and he caught her free hand.

She flinched, and looked at him, into his face. "Yes?"

"We are nearly there."

She looked up, and along the grey stone causeway that rose up towards iron-banded gates. Guards on either side stood with halberds braced against their shoulders.

"Stay there," the taller of the guards called out. "Stay right there."

"We need to see Gromnir," Jaheira said, every word cold and unrelenting. "We need to see him, and we need to see him _now_."

"You're a Bhaalspawn?"

"No," Jaheira said.

"Your friends?" The guard's eyes narrowed. "We've all heard the rumours. How even _more_ Bhaalspawn came here yesterday. Dropped clean out of the air, like someone just threw you all here."

"Yes," Kera said, and her voice stayed steady. "I am a Bhaalspawn."

"And what might you want with Gromnir?"

'To talk," Jaheira said.

"What about?"

"How we might be able to salvage the city."

"Right." The guard grinned, all teeth. "All you Bhaalspawn do is kill each other."

"Think about it," Jaheira said, low and fierce. "There's an army outside, and every day this goes on, those catapults are chipping away at the walls that are keeping you safe. You can't hide in here and hope."

"No, we…"

"_No_," Jaheira said. "_Think_ about it. How long can this go on? Really?"

The guard scowled. "Gromnir does not wish to be disturbed."

"When those walls come down – and they _will_ come down – do you think that army outside will care what you or Gromnir wish? About anything?"

"Leave your weapons," the guard said. "Leave your weapons here."

"No. We will go escorted, if you think it necessary, but not unarmed."

The guard shifted awkwardly. On the high walls of castle above, other men ran, and someone screamed, shrill and piercing. Something heavy thumped against stone, and someone else shouted out an order to fire back. "Your weapons," he said again.

"No." Jaheira's hand tightened on her spear, and when she nodded, Valygar unsheathed his sword, and Haer'Dalis rattled both his blades free. "We keep our weapons."

The guard swallowed. "Alright. Stay with me, and inside, I want those weapons sheathed."

Jaheira nodded slowly. "As you wish it."

Past the gates, the high corridors were cool and grey with shadows. Dust lay thick on the heavy rolls of tapestries, and little light broke through the high lancet windows. Underfoot, the carpets were deep and damp and scarlet against the stone beneath. Kera walked beside Solaufein, and she noticed how his eyes narrowed slightly in the gloom, how his gaze darted to the dark corners behind pillars, to the empty spaces of alcoves. Stone steps led up and into a chamber full of carved columns and the smell of mildew. Oil lamps hung beneath the stone arches and threw tiny points of light into the greyness. Kera breathed in slowly, and felt Solaufein's fingers brush against the back of her hand.

The guard motioned them to a halt, and bowed his head. "General?"

Kera looked past the high columns, and saw the edge of a dais, and a throne. Sitting hunched forward, both elbows planted on his knees, was Gromnir Il-Khan, and his frame was heavy with muscle. His head lifted, and his fierce yellow eyes narrowed. "You bring Bhaalspawn to me?"

The guard paused. "They…wish to talk."

"To talk?" Gromnir's lips parted in a quick, vicious grin. "To talk. To talk to Gromnir. Have they come to talk about Melissan?"

"What," Kera began, and swallowed. "Where is she?"

"Melissan." Gromnir leaned back on the throne. His grin did not disappear. "Pretty Melissan is in here with me. Should we bring her out to you? So that you can hear her talk as well? She talks well."

"Yes," Kera said unsteadily. "Please bring her out."

Gromnir lifted one hand, thick fingers heavy with rings. "Go on, then," he said to the guards beside the throne. "Find pretty Melissan. Bring her here, and the strangers can hear her talk."


	19. Choices

_As always, I own little. Also a very big thank-you to everyone who's watching, reading and reviewing, especially given the rather slowed pace of updates at this most hectic time of the semester. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Nineteen – Choices**_

Kera waited, and watched the twisting dust motes, and tried not to look at Gromnir and his flickering, wide yellow eyes. She loosened her hands around her belt and breathed slowly. _Foolish_, she thought. She had waited for far worse things in Baldur's Gate and Ust Natha and yet the stillness here was prickling at her nape and making her fingers shift against her belt and her sword hilt.

She remembered the high, dark chamber in Ust Natha, and Ardulace's face as she chanted words that seemed to turn the air cold.

_"It begins," Phaere murmured. "It begins, and the elves will fall." _

_ Something whispered in the air, something chill and old and something that made her spine stiffen. Ardulace's hands wove curving patterns against the stone, and her eyes closed. _

_ "Keep watching," Phaere said, her mouth very close to Kera's ear. "Keep watching." _

_ The black stone floor split apart, and when something hot and bright blazed within, Phaere stepped back. Kera narrowed her eyes, and made herself watch, even as something dreadful dug huge claws against the stone and heaved itself up. _

_ "You have called me, darkling," the thing said, and every word rang inside Kera's head. "You have called me, and I would know the reason."_

"You," Gromnir said, and he slapped one hand against his knee. "You. You are the Bhaalspawn, yes?"

"Yes," she answered. "I am a Bhaalspawn."

"Did you come to Saradush because Melissan asked you to?"

"No."

"Gromnir did," he said. "We all did. We came because she called us, and gathered us. And she said that we would keep Saradush safe. Melissan found us and found Gromnir, and she said that we had to help."

"Really," Jaheira said thoughtfully. "How long have you known Melissan?"

"Too long," Gromnir answered, and when the side door opened, he grinned. "Bring her here. Come on. Bring her here. Let them see her."

The guards nudged Melissan in front of the throne, and Kera saw how the red curtains of her hair shielded her face. Her wrists were tied and thick with blood, and when she lifted her head, Kera saw the dark map of bruises that blurred the porcelain angles of her face.

"Do you see," Melissan said, and her voice was rough and tired. "Gromnir, do you see? The strangers are not hiding. They are here. They are before you, as I said they would be."

"Lies," Gromnir snapped. "All of it. They are here for _you_, pretty Melissan. They are here to talk to Gromnir because of _you_. They are not here for Gromnir because of Gromnir."

"Gromnir, they…"

'They carry the blood of our father, don't they? More of them. Brought here, with their blood. Does Melissan think Yaga-Shura will go now, with all these sisters and brothers of his here?"

"We have more hope now. With more allies, we have more hope."

"Hope?" Gromnir's yellow eyes glittered. "More hope? _Here?_"

"We need to speak," Jaheira said, and her heels cracked hard against the stone floor when she stepped forward. "Some decision needs to be reached, and soon. We saw that army outside the walls. You have little time."

"Little time," Gromnir said, and nodded. "Little time until we all go back to our father. Our blood does that, stranger girl. Did you know? He wants it all and he will have it all."

"Yes," Kera said quietly. "I know."

"Have messengers been sent to Yaga-Shura?" Jaheira asked.

"Messengers?"

"Asking for terms. Allowing the people out of the city. Leaving the Bhaalspawn, perhaps?"

"_Leaving_ the Bhaalspawn?" Melissan's eyes widened. "How could such a thing be suggested? They are _people_ as much as every other breathing soul inside these walls."

"I know," Jaheira said, coldly. "I _know_. It may be though that such an agreement might save more people. If they are allowed safe passage, then perhaps we could help all your Bhaalspawn escape some other way."

"Some other way? What is it you are suggesting?"

"I'm not certain, yet. I simply wonder if there might be some way to agree to terms."

"Yaga-Shura would agree to the surrender of the city," Melissan said. "Nothing more. And we would all be killed. He wants the city, and he wants the people in it dead."

"Surrender?" Gromnir grinned again. "Surrender to Yaga-Shura and he will feed our blood to Bhaal. Don't surrender, and he will do it anyway. Stranger girl, this is what pretty Melissan wants. She hasn't said it, not to you, but she lies. She wants us to be dead. She wants us all to be as dead as Bhaal."

Kera made herself look up, and into his yellow eyes, and she saw the hollowness there. She wondered where he had come from, and how it was he found himself to be a Bhaalspawn, and whether he had dreamed the same dreams, the dreams that were full of the scent of blood.

"_No_, Gromnir," Melissan said. "I am _not_ lying to you. I never have, and I…"

"Guards," Gromnir said, quietly. He pushed up to his feet, and braced his heavy, ringed fingers on the throne arms. "Guards. Pretty Melissan is lying again, and Gromnir is tired of it. Shut her up, and properly."

The guards moved first, and Minsc followed a fraction slower, shouldering between them and shoving Melissan aside. Jaheira caught her and drew her to one side. Her hands flew to the ropes on the woman's wrists, and she sliced them apart. A juddering blow from Minsc's mace sent one of the guards sprawling, his head split apart.

"The strangers _have_ come for pretty Melissan," Gromnir said, and when he laughed, it sounded weary. "They should not have her."

Kera heard Jaheira ordering her forward, and the sharp whine when Haer'Dalis unsheathed his swords. Solaufein stepped past her, and the upswing of his blade bit under one of the guard's arms and into the man's chest. She darted past another guard's sword, and side-stepped his instinctive riposte. The solid smack of Valygar's sword sent the guard spinning, and Kera followed up, and opened the guard's throat. She heard Gromnir cry out, and she pushed on, diving past the next guard's lunge. His sword met empty air, and Solaufein, and the drow twisted until he was inside arm's-length, his blade buried in the man's belly.

She saw Gromnir as he fell back against the throne, clawing at the wet line of a gash across his shoulder. Another crossed his chest, and another followed the line of his forearm. Haer'Dalis stood opposite, both his blades dripping, and his face creased into a frown.

Gromnir's mouth moved silently. He lifted one hand, and smiled. The tiefling spun, and the downward stroke of his right-hand sword met Gromnir's jaw, and the soft flesh beneath.

Kera watched, watched until his eyes closed, and flinched when Solaufein touched the back of her hand.

"They're dead," the drow murmured. "The guards."

She nodded wordlessly. She turned slowly, and saw that Melissan was staring at Gromnir, at the vivid spill of his blood.

"You killed him," the woman said.

_Yes_, Kera thought, and she wanted to breathe him in, his death, and the taste of his Bhaalspawn blood. "Yes."

"The city," Melissan murmured. "What will become of the people now?"

"Now that we have sent yon mad general into his rather deserved end?" Haer'Dalis grinned. "Perchance the city and its people can fare no worse with Gromnir Il-Khan no longer sharing the air they breathe."

"Yes, but…I had hoped. I had hoped. Gromnir dead means chaos. Gromnir…"

"Was mad," Haer'Dalis remarked idly.

"Yaga-Shura," Melissan said, and shook her head. "If he hears of this, he will push his army at the walls until they crumble."

"No one need know," Jaheira said. "_We_ know, and it can stay here."

"For now. Not for long. His men will wonder."

"They can wonder," the druid said sharply. "Would it be such a surprise, not to know when Gromnir might unbar his door again?"

"Perhaps not," Melissan said. "But Yaga-Shura…we must speak of this."

Jaheira caught the woman's wrists, and flicked her sleeves back, revealing pale skin and the crimson marks of the ropes. "You need healing."

"Later. I am fine."

"Now," the druid said firmly. "And somewhere safe. At the inn with us, and we can talk about it."

* * *

Kera braced her hands against the table, and listened to the terrible, tearing sound of something heavy pounding into stone outside. The doors were barred, and the waxen-faced innkeeper had smiled long enough to thank them for Melissan's life, and offered a tray of cold meat and cheese that Kera had barely touched. Something brushed her fingers, and she jerked away.

"I'm sorry," Solaufein said, and withdrew. "I didn't mean…"

"No." She grasped his hand, and held on, tight enough that it almost hurt. "I was…thinking."

"Thinking?"

Past the drow's shoulder, she could see Jaheira, her arms crossed as she listened to Melissan. Imoen stood beside her, her head tilted to one side, and Kera watched as her sister smiled lopsidedly.

"I was thinking," Kera said. "I was thinking that we were always going to kill Gromnir, weren't we? And now we'll have to kill Yaga-Shura, and we'll just have to hope that we do it quick enough that some of the people in this city get themselves out."

Solaufein stayed silent, and very gently, he brought the back of her hand to his lips.

"Kill a fire giant," she said, and she felt herself smiling. "I've never killed a fire giant before."

"He is said to be invulnerable," Melissan said.

"Invulnerable?"

"They say arrows hit him and he pulls them out and does not bleed. They say even the coldest of spells cannot slow him."

"_They_ say?"

"I have seen it," Melissan whispered. "From the walls, I have seen it. Spells cannot take him to his knees, and I saw a spear in his chest that he pulled out. He did not bleed. He stands before his army, and they all see it."

"So." Kera pushed away from the table. "What is it that you would have us do? How do we fight an invulnerable creature?"

"I know it seems…" Melissan ducked her head. "I know it seems helpless. Everything has a weakness, Kera. Everything."

"And this giant?"

"He came down here from the Marching Mountains. He brought with him his giants, and they have a fortress there."

"And you know this…?" Jaheira asked.

"Before the city was sealed, messengers were sent asking for help. Some few returned, and even fewer reported the giants as they moved down from the mountains."

"The Marching Mountains," Imoen said, her mouth pressed together. "South?"

"South-west," Jaheira answered. "And a fair way's travel. What exactly are you hoping we'll find?"

"I don't know," Melissan said. "Answers."

"We could die," the druid told her, flatly. "We could die in a bandit ambush two days after leaving. What then?"

"Then the city falls as we fear it will. Nothing changes."

"And if not?"

"Then perhaps some of these people will make it out alive."

"Every day more people die in the streets," Valygar said, quietly. "How long until Yaga-Shura pushes forward?"

"I don't know," Melissan said. "I fear that it will be soon. I know you came here through some…strange means. Perhaps…"

"Yes," Kera answered, and her stomach twisted. "Yes. Strange means."

"Then it is decided? You will do this?"

Kera stared down at the rough floorboards between her feet. "Yes," she said, eventually. "Yes, we will do this."

* * *

That night, Solaufein watched as she locked the door and blew out the last of the candles. She said nothing, and he did not press her, did not ask if she wanted the curtains open a little further, if she wanted help shedding her leathers in the dark. Instead, he helped her wordlessly, finding buckles and straps and the pliant feel of her skin beneath. She had eaten little at dinner, despite Imoen's persistence, and only spoken to reassure the red-haired woman that yes, they would be leaving at dawn.

Her fingers caught against his belt. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

She shook her head. She pulled his shirt over his head and explored him with a yearning kind of tenderness that made him ache. She trailed soft, barely-there kisses up his chest, up to his collarbones. Her tongue dipped into the hollow of his throat. He reached out and let the tips of his fingers brush across her. She murmured appreciatively, wordlessly, and her mouth travelled back down towards his waist, teasingly slowly.

When she unbuckled his belt, he caught her hands, and murmured, "Come with me."

She nodded, and she let him guide her across to the bed. In the darkness, he shed the rest of his clothes, and turned into the blind, sliding movement of her hands. He could see her, could see her half-closed eyes and the tousled fall of her hair. He could see the way her mouth opened when he let his fingers play between her thighs.

"Kera," he said. "Let me open the curtain?"

"No," she said. She traced around his mouth, and along the line of his jaw. "Like this?"

He nodded, and kissed her again. He let his weight take them both down onto the sheets. "Then slowly," he said, and very gently, he drew her legs up around him. He cupped both hands beneath her hips, and when he lifted her to meet his first thrust, he saw how her eyes widened silently.

After it was over, and after he coaxed a soft, half-gasped cry from her, he stayed like that, lying between her legs, his head against her belly, feeling the rhythm as she breathed.

"Kera."

"I know," she said, and her voice seemed distant and tired. "I'm sorry. I know."

"This fire giant. Yaga-Shura."

"I've never faced one. Invulnerable or not."

"You faced Irenicus."

"I had to." Her fingers brushed across his hair. "I'm going to have to call another portal, aren't I?"

"Yes," he answered, a little hesitant.

"I don't want to. I want to never have to call one again."

"Why?" he asked, and ran his thumbs across the slight swells of her hips. "Will you tell me?"

"The power in it frightens me." Her fingers delved into his hair, twisting through the loose strands. "It answers something in me that I cannot always control. And it frightens me that it is my father's power. Bhaal's power."

"What did it feel like?"

"It just felt strange. It felt like falling over, and not quite reaching the ground properly," she said, and laughed slightly. "Imoen is the one with the talent for magic. She's always been better at things like this."

"Not this."

"No," she said. "Not this, I suppose."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

"What was the first…these things of Bhaal's that you have. That you feel. What was the first?"

"The dreams," she said. "I remember going to Gorion about them. They were the most…they were terrible. They scared me, and I couldn't sleep. I told him about them, and he looked very strange. Do you remember I told you about the man I killed, in the stables?"

"Yes."

"When he died, I…" A shudder rippled through her, and her hands slipped away from his hair, her fingers twisting and tightening against each other. "The blood. I smelled it. I…"

"I'm listening," Solaufein said, and kissed the inside of her hip.

"He was only a man. He wasn't a Bhaalspawn. But I had never…I wanted to get down on my hands and knees and get as close to him and his death as I could. It felt _right_."

Her words fell fast and cold, and beneath his cheek, he felt her pulse as it quickened. "It is this blood you carry."

"It was the same today, Solaufein. With Gromnir. It's worse with other Bhaalspawn. It's as if…I don't know. I _know _what they are, and I want to…I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm not making sense."

He lifted himself off her slightly, so that he could look down at her properly. No touch of warmth coloured her skin, and the black curves of her eyelashes seemed too dark amid the pale lines of her face. He caught the blankets, and tugged them up and over them both. "You've gone cold."

"I'm fine."

"You're not," he said. "Kera. I can see it in your face and I can feel it in you. What can I do?"

She leaned up and into his arms again. Her lips met his, clumsily and rough. "Solaufein," she said. "Stay with me."

He let her pull him down, and when she twisted to one side, he rolled her on top of him. She clung to him, her face pressed to the side of his neck. She did not let go of him, not even after he spilled himself into her again, and not even after the blankets were damp with their sweat around them, and her breath came in ragged heaves against him.

* * *

She woke to the dull sound of stone thumping into stone, and she twisted around, half out of the bed before her eyes opened properly. Warm arms closed around her shoulders and held her in place, and Solaufein murmured, "It's outside."

"I'm sorry," she said, a little awkwardly. "I was dreaming, and then I think I was awake very suddenly, and it…"

"It is alright," he said. "What did you dream?"

"Empty houses," she answered. "Open doorways, and there were only the dead there."

"Was it Saradush?"

"I don't know."

"We should hurry," he said, and it sounded stilted. "You wanted to leave early?"

"Yes," she answered. She swallowed, and found that her mouth was dry. "What if it doesn't work?"

"What do you mean?"

"The portal."

"I don't know," he said, and caught her hands, and drew them away from her face. "Nothing is certain. You know this. But I think it will work."

"Because it worked last time?"

"Maybe," he allowed. He kissed her fingers where they were folded and pale around his. "You need to get dressed."

She turned around in his arms, so that she was pressed against his bare chest. "So do you."

"Yes," he said. "Kera?"

"Yes?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

She laughed, softly, and without much real warmth. She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he ran his hands up and down her back. She pulled herself away from him eventually, and he helped her back into her clothes. Silently, she did the same for him, and even when she fumbled with the buckles on his armour, he stayed motionless and waited for her. He combed her hair and parted the brown tresses into a single thick braid, and his fingers lingered against the crown of her head.

Downstairs, she stepped into the taproom and into the bright dots of sunlight that shone through the gaps at the boarded windows. She paused, and felt Solaufein's hand brush against the small of her back.

"Kera," Jaheira said, from where she stood near the door. "Are you ready? Should I call the others?"

She shifted uncertainly. Solaufein moved, and he settled his arm properly around her waist.

"Yes," Kera said. She turned slightly, so that she could lean against his shoulder. "Yes. I think I'm ready."


	20. The Forest

_Reviews, as always, are welcome. _

_**Chapter Twenty: The Forest**_

The portal twisted around her, and her feet hit the ground. She stumbled into Imoen, and her sister held on, propping her up until the world stopped whirling. She opened her eyes, and saw the sweep of heavy green trees. Vines hung and dripped between the thick branches. Above, the slate sky rippled, and the wind that plucked at her cloak and her hair was warm.

"This…" Kera shook her head. "This isn't right. Is it?"

Imoen shrugged. "I don't know. How close did you want to take us?"

"I don't know. I tried…"

"We're not far south enough," Jaheira cut in. "_If_ we're where I think we are, this must be the Forest of Mir."

Kera swallowed back the sudden urge to say something vicious, and stepped away instead. Somewhere close by, the branches rustled, and she breathed in the scent of rain and wet earth.

_Why_, she wondered, _had it not worked properly? _

She had framed the thought in her mind as before, desperate and febrile and _wanting_ to be there, to be amid the Marching Mountains, and close to Yaga-Shura's fortress.

"Sarevok said," Kera murmured, and stared down at her boots. "Sarevok said the portals would take me places I _needed_ to be."

"You would trust Sarevok's words on that?" Jaheira asked.

"Perhaps. He was right about everything else he said about the portals." _About how they wound through Bhaal's place, and used something of Bhaal's power_, she thought.

"So we _need_ to be here?" Imoen scrubbed a hand through her hair. "You know, sister mine, I'm really glad it's _you_ that gets to do all the strange things."

"You can call the next portal if you want."

"_No_, thank you."

"So we remain here?" Jaheira asked. "You wish to move on foot from here?"

"What I _wish_ is not to call up another portal. Not now. I think…" She looked again at the dark, high arches of the trees. "I think we need to be here."

For a long moment, Jaheira remained wordless. Then she nodded, slowly, and said, "Very well."

* * *

The day stayed overcast and wet, and beneath the deep shadows of the trees, Valygar found a narrow trail that rolled between low hills and past high shelves of rock, slick with water. As the afternoon faded into a grey evening, the rain fell harder, and Kera glared down at the mud that caked her ankles. Beside her, Solaufein moved with measured, cautious steps. His heels sank against the mud more than once, and she noticed how he paused, righting his balance. His hair was plastered against his head, and hanging in thick, wet handfuls over his shoulders.

She touched the back of his left hand. "Are you alright?"

"The rain," he said. "I feel as if I can't hear things properly, and the ground feels strange."

She nodded. "You've seen rain before, though?"

"Yes, but never this heavy." He blinked water away from his eyelashes and scowled. "We never went up to the surface if it was raining like this."

"Too difficult to navigate?"

"Too easy to become outmatched by the surface elves," he said, and his smile was edged. "Never worth the risk. They knew the terrain and the weather, and we did not. We needed to move silently, and while the rain can cover a drow's footsteps, or his approach, it also deafens him."

She stopped, and listened to the pattering of the rain against the curving branches and her own shoulders. "I'm sorry," she said. "It must be very uncomfortable."

"I'm fine," he said, and then his smile softened. "No, I'm not. I feel very strange."

"I think I understand."

"This forest." His head tipped back, and the rain scattered against his forehead and his eyelids, and ran down the sharp line of his jaw. "It is not like the elven forest."

"No. It's not. It's feels different."

He caught her hand, his gloved fingers damp. "Will you walk with me?"

She was almost tempted to grin and tell him that she had been doing just that, and why would she change her mind now? Instead, she nodded, and murmured, "Of course I will."

* * *

The night fell over the forest, dank and dark. Imoen spun a fire spell around the collection of dripping branches that Minsc had chopped up, but too much smoke boiled up, turning the damp air acrid and thick. She flattened the fire out, and let the wood sit there uselessly, and sank back on her heels until Kera coaxed her away, and onto the slightly drier ledge of rock on the other side of the small clearing.

"Sorry." Imoen wrapped her arms around her shins. "I just wanted…"

"It's alright, you know."

"I know. I just…I like being able to make fires for us. That sounds stupid."

"No, it doesn't."

"Kera?"

"Yes?"

"Do you think this forest would be any prettier if it wasn't raining?"

She spluttered into a laugh. "No. I don't."

"No. It's strange, isn't it? You can feel it too, can't you?"

She looked at the high, black arches of the trees, and the great swathe of the sky overhead. There _was_ something, she thought. Something old and something waiting, and something beneath the damp loam and inside the clustered rocks and clinging like the rain to the tangled trees.

"Yes," she said, and it came out close to a whisper. "I can feel it."

Imoen shifted closer, so that her shoulder was against her sister's. Kera turned, and saw how her hazel eyes flickered, and knew that she was gathering up the courage to say something.

"What is it?"

Imoen's fingers twisted together. "Alright. I have to ask you this before I go completely insane. It's about Solaufein."

Kera blinked. "Go on."

"Well…I know that I generally prefer men who are…well. Big."

"You did not just ask what I think you asked. Did you?"

"Big as in _tall_. Tall, broad, solid. Big shoulders. You know. And Solaufein is so…skinny. And he's no taller than you."

"Oh, I don't know. There are a few advantages."

"Like what?"

"Think about it," she said, and when Imoen frowned, she grinned.

"You don't mean…?"

"I don't know," Kera said, and shrugged quite deliberately. "Do I?"

"You're horrible."

"Possibly."

"Is it alright, though?"

"_Imoen_."

"I don't mean _that_," her sister said, and nudged her. "I mean…just it. You and Solaufein. Is it alright?"

"Yes, it is," Kera answered immediately. "It really is."

"He _is_ a drow."

"This, from the girl whose jaw dropped to the ground the very _instant_ she saw Xan?"

Imoen scowled, and her cheeks turned faintly pink. "He was pretty. And anyway, that was different. Xan was an elf."

"Solaufein's an elf."

"No, he isn't," Imoen said. "Not really. And not in the same way. And you know it."

Kera turned, so that they were facing each other, both of them with their knees drawn up, the way they had on the windowsills in Candlekeep, so long ago. "Are you really worried?"

"No, just curious. In need of gossip and details."

"No details."

"You're no fun." Imoen grinned. "It just seems a bit unlike you. That's all. You never gushed about beautiful elf boys and their beautiful ears or anything. And Jaheira said your last comrade between the sheets was human."

"There weren't exactly drow by the score at Candlekeep to compare, you know." Kera leaned the side of her head against her crossed arms. She tried to pretend they were elsewhere, somewhere that the rain could not touch, maybe at the Copper Coronet with its haze of blue smoke and raucous music and tables in the darkest of corners. _But no_, she thought. Imoen had never been to the Copper Coronet. She had been taken by the Cowled Wizards, and had never been there.

"I was so scared," Imoen said quietly. "When we went into Ust Natha for the first time. Even with the illusion, it seemed as if we were never going to get through the city."

"I know."

"Seems strange," she said, and touched Kera's shin gently. "We went in there thinking we'd never come out breathing, and you came out with Solaufein."

She looked into her sister's face, and knew better than to accuse her of prodding jealousy. She met Imoen's smile, and murmured, "It is strange."

"Good. Now that I've been suitably soppy about you two, are you going to tell me _anything _scandalous? I mean, he _is_ a drow, and you know what everyone thinks about how drow are in bed."

"_No_, Imoen."

* * *

A single lantern glowed near the tent flaps, and Solaufein could still hear the rain, thrumming down on the canvas above. He had shed his soaked armour, and he lay tangled around Kera's equally bare form. Earlier, she had pulled him down onto the blankets and dug her fingers into his sodden hair and kissed him until he groaned. They had _tried_ to be quiet, had stopped each others' gasps with mouths and hands and whispered words.

She trailed a hand across him, slowly and thoughtfully. Her fingers stopped at the dip between his shoulder blades, and he guessed why.

"How did you get these?"

She must have meant the curving, almost symmetrical pattern of scars there, so he answered, "When Phaere was taken into the temple, Matron Mother Ardulace had her handmaidens punish me."

"Punish you?"

"They flogged me," he said. "At least, it began like that. It was a typical punishment, really, for a male. But…it went on. For a long time, it went on."

Her fingers slipped across the small of his back, gently stroking. "How long?"

"For nearly as long as Phaere was in the temple. I don't know. Many days. They did not let me sleep."

"What?"

"They wanted to know what I had done to her. How I made it so that she cared so little for her status, and her mother's place in Ust Natha. They wanted to know how I had done this to her." He shrugged. "Interrogations pass all the quicker if the one being _asked_ the questions is exhausted. At least, such is the intention."

"When you came out," she said, and paused long enough to kiss the side of his ear. "When you came out, what happened?"

"They healed me. They told me I had kept my position as commander, and if I failed in such a manner again, I would die. I was foolish. I went straight to the temple and I looked for her."

"Did you find her?" Kera asked, softly.

"Yes. She was changed."

"Changed?"

_He found her in the small chamber, sitting in the alcove. He watched as she pressed her shoulders back against the black stone, and he remembered how he had once let her push him back against the same place, and how she had straddled him amid the dark and the swirling incense and taken him until his body shuddered under hers. He let his feet scrape against the floor, and waited until her head turned. "Phaere?" _

"_Commander Solaufein."_

_Her voice was flat. He faltered, uncertain suddenly. Where had they taken her, he wondered again, and what had happened to her? She was sitting awkwardly, as if the slim frame beneath her robes was tense, or sore, or both. _

"_Phaere, I…" He looked away from her face, and down to where her sleeves were bunched at her wrists. He saw the lines of half-healed cuts, and blurted out, "What did they _do_ to you?"_

"_Nothing." _

"_Phaere." Without thinking, he grasped her arm and flicked the fabric back. He saw silk stitches winding across her beautiful ebony skin, and he could smell blood. "Phaere, where else are you hurt?"_

"_Don't," she said, and jerked away from him. "Commander Solaufein. Don't touch me."_

_He looked into her crimson eyes and something cold coiled through his belly. "Don't you remember…? Do you remember what we talked about?"_

_She drew herself up and away from him. "What did we talk about, Commander Solaufein?"_

Escape_, he thought, and his throat tightened. _Leaving here. Finding somewhere else_, he thought, and when he looked into her eyes again, he did not see her. _

"_Nothing," he said, and his tongue felt heavy against his teeth. "Forgive me, mistress. Nothing." _

"Changed," he said. "She was…as you knew her. No. She _became_ as you knew her."

"I understand. And I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

"But you had to see her, and often. That would not have been easy."

"No," he said, and the confession almost hurt, and he wondered if he had ever said it aloud before. "No. It was not."

She cupped the side of his head, and her fingers brushed against the rings in his ear. "Solaufein."

"It was a long time ago," he said again, and rolled over. "May I…" He faltered, and again he could not quite find the words, not properly, not in any way he was certain would not offend.

"Go on," Kera said.

"You said before," he managed, and stopped. He looked away from her face, and to the scars that criss-crossed her slender frame and wondered why he even had cause to ask. No drow female would bear such a question, he knew, and nor would he have dared to broach it. "You said to me that you did not lie with anyone in Ust Natha, or before, for some time."

"That's right."

"May I ask why not? I find myself curious."

"The same reason," Kera said. "No one captured my fancy."

"But you are young."

"At Candlekeep, there was a boy who helped tend the gardens. I lured him into the stables one afternoon."

"Indeed?" He grinned, and was pleased when she returned it. "Temptress."

Her face coloured slightly, and she rubbed a hand across her forehead. "It was no great affair," she said. "In fact, it was all over rather quickly, and the most I got for my trouble was hay in my hair."

"And after?"

"After?" She nestled closer, and the damp coils of her hair spilled across his shoulder. "Not many. There was a man in Baldur's Gate I had a…a dalliance with, I suppose you'd call it. And then when we were in Athkatla, I met a man who wanted to be a knight. He was a good man."

"I'm sorry. I have never…I feel as if I am asking the wrong thing."

"No," she said, and she trailed a hand down his chest. "It's alright."

"Would you tell me?"

"I was not what he hoped I was, and he was not what I thought he was. He wanted someone to save. Someone to devote himself to."

"And you?"

"Me?" She fell silent for a long moment. "I didn't want that. I wanted comfort. I wanted to not have to spend every night alone. We were…not for each other. We only thought we should have been."

Solaufein found that he did not know what he could say to that. The inside of his mouth felt strange, sandy. Why _had_ he asked, he thought, and what answer had he hoped to hear? _Not for each other_, she had said, and he wondered what that meant.

"Kera?"

"Yes?'

Whatever he wanted to say lodged in his throat. Some questions were not his to ask, he knew.

"Nothing," he said, and smiled slightly. He drew her against him, and he lay with her in his arms as the candle burned down, and he listened to the soft, insistent sound of the rain outside.

* * *

Kera followed the twisting path through the trees. Vines hung in thick, dripping tangles between the branches. Underfoot, cracked stone slabs pushed up through the sodden loam. Before the sun had risen and rinsed the sky the palest of yellow, Valygar and Solaufein had scouted out into the wet darkness, and reported little moving amid the trees.

Still, walking with both heels sliding on the uneven ground, she felt barely reassured. She tasted the rain with every breath, and the weight of her hair dragged against her collar.

Something, she knew, _something_ had needed her to be here, in this forest, and beneath the darkness of the curling branches.

She remembered Spellhold, and the passageways beneath it, and their tricks and riddles and illusions. She remembered the blood of the monsters they had killed there, and how she had _felt_ where Irenicus had been, _must have been_, because she could feel her soul.

_"This way." _

_ Jaheira paused. "Kera, I'm not certain. We need to wait, to see…"_

_ "To see what? If I change into _that thing_ again and kill you all?" Her voice split into echoes that bounced off the high stone walls. "We need to go, and now."_

_ "And if we get lost?"_

_ "We won't."_

_ Jaheira caught her wrist. "You can't know that."_

_ "He's been here," she snapped. "He's been through here. He's been through here with Bodhi."_

_ "Kera, I don't…"_

_ "My _soul_," she said, and jerked away. "I can feel it. I can feel him. We need to get back up to the asylum, and find him. If he gets away he'll take it with him, and then we'll have to follow him, and I don't know if…"_

_ "Kera," Jaheira said, and her face softened. Very gently, she took Kera's hand again, and held on. "We'll find him. We will." _

She tipped her head back, and let the rain patter against her face until her eyelids and temples were running with it.

"Do you like that?" Solaufein asked, and he sounded entirely bewildered.

"Sometimes." She blinked and mopped the rainwater away. "Is that strange?"

"Completely," he said, and smiled.

She returned the smile, and nudged him gently. "Very funny."

The path ran up around the base of clustered rocks, and the trees fell away. Somewhere close by, she heard water rushing over stone. She looked through the grey fall of the rain and saw the edges of high walls, jutting up through the arching branches. Water ran down deep seams in the dark stone, and when Kera saw it, she froze. She made herself look further, and she saw the rotten, fallen pieces of a gate, and the sprouting tangle of green leaves above.

"This place," Imoen said, and her voice was low. "What is it?"

Kera shook her head. "I don't know."

She watched the water where it ran in thick rivulets down the stone, and she _knew_. Knew how the stone had been soaked in more than water, and only for Bhaal, _always_ for Bhaal. Something twisted in the pit of her stomach, and she stepped back. Her shoulder bumped against Solaufein's, and he caught her.

"Kera," he murmured. "What is it?"

"Bhaal's," she said. She could feel it, as deep and as ancient and as obvious as her own heartbeat. "This is…this place is Bhaal's."

He said nothing. He grasped her hand, and pulled her close to him, close enough that she could smell him, damp hair and skin and leather, and _him_, under it all.

"Kera," Imoen said, and this time, her voice was nearly a whisper. "_Kera_. Do you see him? _Do you see him?_"

She kept her hand linked through Solaufein's, and she looked up and past his shoulder. She saw Gorion, and she saw that he stood before the ruined gates, his hair and his robes heavy with the rain.


	21. Shades

_As always, I own little, and reviews are welcome. _

_**Chapter Twenty-One: Shades**_

Kera stared at Gorion and knew that he could not be real. _He_ _could not_, she told herself silently. She had seen him fall, and she had seen his blood on the ground near Candlekeep, and she had seen his face all waxen and cold afterwards.

_"Gorion!"_

_He had told her to be quiet, and she had. He had told her to hide, while the strangers circled him. She had, and now, while she supposed they had left, taking their victory with them, she knelt beside him. _

"_Gorion," she said again, and she found that she did not care if the strangers heard her, if they came back for her, if they sent one of their friends looking. "Father."  
_

_She touched the side of his face, and he was cold. She looked at her own fingers, curled against his skin, and she wondered why she was not sobbing or howling over him. "Father," she said again. "Please…" _Please, what, _she wondered? Tell her who they had been? Tell her who the tall man in the grey armour had been, the man with the fierce yellow eyes? _

Why_, she thought, _why had he not run also? _Why had he_ _stayed and looked so calmly at the strangers as they came out of the trees? _

_She had seen him stumble, had heard him cry out. She had seen it when the tall man had driven him to his knees, and pushed a sword into his chest. _

_Something cold splashed against her fingers, and she found that she was crying, silently, her throat painfully tight. She closed her eyes against the swell of tears. _

"Kera," Gorion said, and his voice was the same. "Kera. Child. What are you doing here?"

She opened her mouth, and the words died on her lips. She needed to demand what he was, _really_, beneath this shape he wore, this shape that belonged to a dead man. He _could not_ be Gorion, could not be the man who had led her out of Candlekeep the same night that he had died.

"I'm…" she muttered, and shook her head. "You're not Gorion."

He smiled. "How could I not be?"

"You're dead."

"Child, this is foolishness." Gorion's smile stayed, and he stepped closer. The rain pattered against his shoulders, broad beneath his robes, and his hair hung in damp tangles. "I am here, with you. You know me, don't you?"

"No," Kera said, and stepped back. She reached out blindly and found Solaufein's hand, and then the supporting weight of his arm. "You're not real. You can't be. I watched you die. Sarevok killed you."

"This world of ours is strange, is it not? Can I not be here with you despite that night?"

She wanted to believe it. She wanted it to be true. She wanted him to be real and to be whole and to be her father again, as he always had been in Candlekeep.

"The world is strange," Kera said slowly. "But you are not Gorion. I don't know what you are, but you are not Gorion. You are wearing his shape, and you are _not_ him."

"Foolish child," Gorion snapped. "Can you not see reason, even now?"

"What are you, really?" She searched his face, and saw the tiny, faded scars that ran down his cheek and into his beard. "What are you?"

"_Father?"_

"_Yes, child?"_

_She shifted around on the windowsill. The edges of her book were digging into her legs, and the clear spill of sunlight through the casement convinced her that she would rather be outside. "I've finished it."_

"_No, you haven't," he answered, without looking up. His hand kept moving, the quill sweeping elegant black inkstrokes across the parchment. "You read fast but not _that_ fast."_

"_Sorry."_

_His head lifted, and he smiled. "Go on, then. Get yourself out of here."_

_She dropped onto the cool stone floor, and laid the book back on his desk. She looked at him, and saw the small spread of pale scars again. "Where did you get those?"_

"_These?" He leaned back in his chair. In the bright fall of the sunlight, his smile turned sad, and old, and again she wondered why. "Oh, a long time ago. Not long after you were born."_

"I am what I appear to be," he said, and the light in his dark eyes was strange, hooded. "I am your father."

_No,_ she thought. Her father was Bhaal, and Bhaal's scent was everywhere, in the rocks and the rain and the heavy, dragging sound of Gorion's robes across the stone.

"You sound different," Imoen said, hesitantly. "You don't…Gorion was never angry. Not like that."

"Should I not be angry?" He swung around, and Imoen froze. "I left Candlekeep with your sister that night, and _I was killed_. Due to her being there, due to her blood calling those who would end her life."

"Gorion," Imoen said, and her voice cracked. "Don't…say such things. Don't…"

"_Don't?_ Don't say that had your sister never been brought to Candlekeep, I might still have been alive? Don't say that you and she are the cause of all this?"

"_Sarevok_ was the cause," Kera said.

"Sarevok would never have come to Candlekeep. He would never have sent assassins first. He would never have waited in the forest that night. _You_ were the cause that brought him."

"No, I…"

"And had you not waited," he said, coldly. "Had you not dawdled in the stables, and in the library, perhaps we could have been gone from Candlekeep all the sooner, and safely into the night."

"_No_." These were lies, she knew, lies and blame and second-guesses. Even so, her eyes prickled, and something heavy settled in the pit of her stomach. "No. It wasn't like that."

"Wasn't it?" He was closer, stepping across the rain-slick stones, and she could smell the dust and the parchment and the ink, the thick ebony ink that had been his favourite. "Was it not true, child," he said, and his face twisted into a smile. "Was it not true that you had no wish to leave, and it was only after you spilled blood in the stables that you realised you _had_ to leave?"

"Yes, but…"

"Do you remember how it felt, seeing a man's death before you? His life shed by _your_ hand?"

"No, I…"

"You came to me white and shaking, child. Do you remember it? His blood was all over you, child. Do you remember?"

She did, and even when she pressed her hands against her eyes, she saw him, the assassin, the man who had tried to kill her in the stables. She remembered the sudden slackening of his features when she drove the dagger in, and how his breath had caught wetly in his throat.

She felt Solaufein's hand drop away from hers, and she opened her eyes in time to see him sliding in front of her.

"Enough," the drow said. "She has heard enough."

"You would have a _drow_ speak for you, child? Except…he does far more than just _speak_ for you, doesn't he?"

"This is pointless," Jaheira said, and Kera heard the woman's voice waver. "This accomplishes nothing. We need…"

"You take a _drow_ into your bed? A drow who should not be on the surface? _This_ drow?"

Kera opened her mouth, and could not quite frame the right words. She looked at Imoen, and at Jaheira, and saw nothing but uncertainty. They were waiting, waiting for her, she supposed. _They don't know what to do_, she thought, and the realization of it jolted through her.

"You know nothing of him," she said, quietly. "You know nothing of us."

"Don't I?" Gorion's gaze sharpened on the drow, raking over him. "In his eyes I see betrayal, and regret. It clings to him, child. His foolishness caused more than just his own downfall, and he should have died for it. Can you not feel it on him?"

Solaufein growled, low in his throat, and his hand flew to his sword hilt. "Be silent."

"Silent? When you stand before me, with your thoughts and your eyes all full of her?"

"You know not of what you speak, creature. My thoughts are my own."

"Are they? You sent her to her death, drow. And yet here you stand, in this world that is not yours."

Solaufein's sword was half clear of his scabbard when the air shifted and rippled into a shape of ebony skin and a heavy fall of white hair. Proud eyes above high cheekbones, and a smile that Kera almost recognized. The rain fell and flecked against the strong planes of her face and ran in thin lines across the slope of her neck.

"Look at me," the shape said, and the voice was Phaere's, soft and cajoling. "Solaufein. Look at me, Solaufein."

His shoulders were rigid. "I am looking at you."

"So obedient." She lifted a ringed hand and touched the side of his face.

Kera swallowed and forced back the sudden, terrible urge to drag him aside, to leave Phaere touching nothing but air.

"Beautiful," Phaere said, and her fingers brushed against his mouth. "You are still so beautiful, Solaufein. Do you remember it? Do you remember us? Do you remember how I had you in the temple, and then on the surface, in the night?"

Solaufein jerked away from her.

"Oh, you _do_ remember. You remember how it was, don't you?"

He growled something in drow, and she laughed.

"But how could I not be myself? Am I not here, before you?" She touched his hair, where the white strands lay thick and wet against his face. "You did this, Solaufein. You wanted House Despana destroyed, and with them, my life as well. You let it happen, and you _wanted_ it to happen."

"Ardulace," he said, and shook his head.

"Ardulace would have fallen, in time. Your haste for revenge brought _my _death, Solaufein, and the fault is yours. You betrayed us, Solaufein. You betrayed me."

His mouth moved soundlessly, and something twisted in Kera's chest. Without thinking, she grasped his hand, and murmured, "They're not real. _She's_ not real. She's not Phaere."

"These things that they know…how else could they know them?"

"She's _not_ Phaere," she said again. She caught his chin, and turned his head. "Solaufein. They're not real, and we need to decide what to do about them."

"Yes. Yes, we do." The words spilled out in a strange, shuddering rush. "Forgive me."

She let her hand linger against his face a moment longer. Then she turned, and drew her sword, and looked into Gorion's face. "I tire of this, and I would know what you are, and why you toy with us this way."

"_Toy_ with you, child? Why would I do that?"

"The truth," Jaheira said, firmly. She moved, so that her shoulder was against Kera's. "The truth, and then leave us, or face us."

"The truth?" Gorion's smile spread wider, and he looked at Kera. "For your soul, godchild. Your soul and that of your sister. It has been long since blood was spilled here, upon these stones, for your father."

Solaufein crossed the distance between them first. The tip of his sword met Gorion's shoulder, and Kera almost looked away. But Gorion only laughed, or seemed to, and the outline of his robes dissolved. Solaufein's blade sheared deeper, and glanced against dark, scaled skin. The creature – whatever it was, whatever it had been beneath Gorion's shape – twisted, and Solaufein stumbled. Haer'Dalis dived in front of the drow, both swords flicking up to brace against the downward swipe of the creature's claws.

Half aware of Imoen calling her name, Kera dragged herself away. She heard the crackling sound of some spell, and her knees buckled when it drove full-force into her chest. Valygar moved in front of her, and she heard the other creature howl. She gritted her teeth and shoved back up to her feet. She saw the creature falter, and when Minsc swept his mace against its legs, it toppled. Valygar pushed his sword almost hilt-deep into the thing's body, and it thrashed. A second blow from the ranger's mace stilled it, and a third removed most of its head.

The other creature - the thing that had worn Gorion's shape and used Gorion's voice – bled dark blood when Solaufein's sword raked its shoulder open. Kera darted past Valygar, and ignored Jaheira's warning to stay back. Haer'Dalis spun around and behind it, and sank both blades into the flesh above the jutting points of its hips. The creature wrenched away, and the tiefling's swords tore clear. The creature shrieked, and Kera paused. She looked into its pointed, narrow face, and found that she could not _quite_ see it, not really. She could see angles and fierce black eyes and teeth, and the flickering suggestion of something else, something beneath its skin.

"What are you?" she murmured.

"The truth," the thing answered, in Gorion's voice. "Your truth, child of Bhaal. Your thoughts. Your blood. I know them. I know you."

She remembered running in the gardens of Candlekeep, and how the white gravel crunched beneath her heels. She remembered the pale billow of dandelion seeds as they blew away from her sister's lips. She remembered sitting at the window, knees drawn up and sharing the sill with Imoen, while the air smelled of apples and late afternoon sunlight. She remembered the cobwebs in the hayloft, and how they clung to her face. She remembered the bristling handfuls of the hay, and how she had shoved too much of it down Imoen's back and how her sister had shrieked and giggled.

She remembered Gorion, and the weight of his hand on her shoulder. She remembered the night, that night, when she had followed the trailing edge of his robe as he led her out of Candlekeep.

_"Come with me, child. Stay fast and silent. I will not lie to you. You are in danger, and I will protect you for as long as I can." _

"No," she said. "You don't."

The thing snarled, and lunged up at her. She jerked back from it, and when her heels skidded on the wet stone, she knew she had not quite moved far enough. The claws lashed out, and dug into her thigh. She wrenched away, and the sudden burst of pain made her cry out. She saw Solaufein, and the arcing motion of his sword as he leaped at it.

Haer'Dalis steadied her, both hands on her shoulders. "My raven," he said, and it came out breathless. "Your timing is, as ever, utterly atrocious."

"Kill it," she ground out. "I want it dead."

"It's dead," Solaufein answered. He straightened up, and pulled his sword clear of the creature's neck. "Kera?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not fine," Jaheira said, her tone acerbic. "You're bleeding all over the ground. Let me see."

She obeyed, and Haer'Dalis very carefully turned her so the druid could scrutinize the gash on her thigh. The tiefling grinned, a little raggedly, and said, "She's all yours, my darkling friend. My swords need cleaning."

She sank into Solaufein's arms, and she could feel him shaking slightly. "Are you alright?"

"Am I alright? _I_ am not bleeding," he replied, softly. "I…I will be alright."

She nodded, and bit her lip when Jaheira's spell buzzed over the wound in her leg. The cool press of salve followed, and another spell, while she leaned against the drow, and turned her face against the fluttering pulse in his throat.

"Kera," Imoen said awkwardly, from somewhere behind her. "Are you alright?"

"I think so."

"That was…" Imoen laughed, and it sounded dry and anxious. "That was strange."

"Very," Kera said, and turned so that she could look at her sister. "It couldn't have been him. You know that, yes?"

"Yes." Imoen pressed her hands together before bringing one up to tug and twist at the sodden hanks of hair near her ear. "I wanted it to be. Even if it didn't make sense. Even if it couldn't be. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," she answered. She reached out, clasped Imoen's hand. "I do know what you mean."

* * *

Under the steady, warm fall of the rain, Solaufein followed Kera as she stepped through the ruined gates. His hand on his sword hilt was not steady enough for his liking. His hair hung in thick, soaked waves, and he was too aware of the weight of it against his neck. His armour seemed heavier that it should have, and it clung to him.

He saw steps first, rising up from cracked blocks that marked out a courtyard. Above, vines curled over wide platforms and travelled the height of carved columns. A single, square-cut slab stood between them, and dark streaks spread across the pale stone. There were statues as well, he saw next, and strange shapes hewn into the stone, and he remembered standing in the scented darkness before Lolth's altar.

"This is a temple," he murmured into Kera's ear.

She nodded. Her face was pale and tight, her brown eyes narrowed. "Yes."

"A temple," Imoen said. She crouched down, and pushed past a spray of ferns. Beneath, jagged markings ran across the stone, half filled with moss. "A temple for Bhaal. Who would _want_ to build a temple for Bhaal?"

"Lots of people," Kera muttered.

"Be careful," Jaheira said. "We don't know that this place is empty."

Kera stopped, and tipped her head back. She breathed in slowly, and he found himself watching the rain as it ribboned her face.

_You are still so beautiful_, the creature wearing Phaere's form had said. And she _had_ said that to him, once, in the silence of her chambers, when the doors had been locked and they had hoped Ardulace's spies were not watching. Kera had said it as well, he remembered, while they had lain next to each other in Saradush. He remembered her hands on him, how she had touched him, slowly and gently, as if she was still learning her way across his body, or as if she might hurt him.

_You take a drow into your bed_, the other creature had snarled, and something had twisted in his gut at those words. Still, the words had been meant for Kera, and not for him, and she had heard worse from the creature's mouth before that.

_What were these things_, he wondered, _that they could reach into thoughts and pull out memories and turn them into weapons? _

_ "You betrayed us, Solaufein. You betrayed me."_

"Solaufein," Kera said, and her voice jarred him out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," he said. He blinked, and rainwater prickled the corners of his eyes. "What is it?"

"This. This is the altar. Bhaal's altar."

She gestured, and he followed her gaze to the edges of the big stone slab. Beneath the dark patches, he saw figures, carved into the stone and dancing across it. Others stood in a circle behind, and he thought he saw flames.

"This is blood?"

"Yes. Blood, and all of it spilled for Bhaal," she said, and her voice was faint, and far away. "Do you see this? See how they must have danced for him?"

"Yes."

"So many of them," she said, and dragged her fingertips across the stone. "I can feel it. All of them, inside the stone."

He looked past her, to where Imoen knelt beside the druid, both of them gazing at the flaking side of a column. Somewhere close by, the wind ruffled the dripping ferns. "All of them?"

"There were many people here once. Great festivals were held here. Many of them died here."

"In sacrifice?"

"Yes. Murder as ritual. For Bhaal."

"Kera," he said. "How do you know this?"

"I can feel it. In the stone."

Very gently, he closed his hand over hers and drew her away from the altar. Beneath her soaked leathers, she was shaking, and her fingers slipped and fumbled against his.

"Solaufein," she said. "I can hear them. There were so many of them. This place is full of them."

He touched her face, streaked with water and the straggling strands of her brown hair. He wanted her away from this place, and somewhere dry, and he wondered how long it might take, and what it was she needed to find here. He wanted to walk beside her, out through the gates and into the forest, and he knew he could not, not yet. Instead, he kept his hand wreathed around hers, and he let her lead him past the winged statues, and deeper into the temple.


	22. An Agreement

_**Chapter Twenty-Two – An Agreement **_

Kera stood beneath the falling rain and looked up into the faces of the statues. Moss clung to them, and filled crumbling gaps in the stone. She reached out and touched the nearest, and discovered that the stone was warm, slick with the rain, and smooth.

"This one," Imoen said, close to a whisper. "This is the Slayer, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"It's terrible."

Kera nodded silently. She watched the water as it ran in thick ribbons across the edges and curves of the statue, and she remembered how it had felt when the change had taken her.

_Nothing but the anger and the hate and the red burn of it inside her._

She turned her hand palm-up, watched until the rain brimmed through her fingers.

"Kera," Solaufein murmured into her ear. "You need to keep moving."

She nodded. She did, and yet, when she made herself look away from the towering statue, she ached. She knew its shape so well, and she remembered how her own had stretched and pulled and changed to become it.

Deeper in, up another spiraling set of steps, the trees curved overhead and shed raindrops in heavy, warm bursts. She looked down at her feet, her boots half-soaked, and she wondered who else had stood here, and why. _For Bhaal_, she thought. _They had stood here for Bhaal and danced here for Bhaal. _She could hear them, their feet snapping hard and fast as they spun, up the stairs and past the statues and back down past the altar again.

She turned away from the arching spread of the trees, and she heard the heavy sound of something moving against the branches. She froze, and felt Solaufein's hand tighten on hers. Carefully, she freed her sword, and turned further.

"Step out of there," Jaheira said, sharply. "Weapons down."

The leaves rustled, and a dark shape stirred, gleaming with the rain. Strange eyes flashed, green and jewel-bright. "You come within Nyalee's place, do you? Nyalee heard you, down below. Heard all the noises you made."

"Who are you?" Jaheira asked.

"This be Nyalee's place to hide," the shape said, and thin fingers twisted together.

"What are," Kera began, and swallowed. "What are you doing here?"

The shape moved again, and small feet brushed the cracked stone. Dark hair hung in wet curtains across thin shoulders, and Kera realised that she was looking at a woman. Soaked cloth clung to her, and the edge of her tunic was ragged below the sharp jut of her collarbones. She smelled of the forest, and the deep green shadows of the temple, and when she lifted her hands again, some pale spell crackled into life around her fingers.

"No magic," Jaheira said, in the same warning tone. "Who are you?"

"Nyalee has had no visitors for such a long time. A long time. A long time since she has seen anyone."

"Why?" Kera asked, and lowered her sword. "Why are you alone in here?"

"Nyalee has nowhere to go. Nowhere else to be safe, and the walls here keep Nyalee hidden."

"This place. You know what it is? What it used to be?"

The woman smiled. "Nyalee knows. Watched them, I did, so many times. Watched them when they danced and sang and bathed the stones in blood."

"You were one of them?"

"Sometimes, on some days, under some stars," the woman said. "They all left this place. Some of them left it through the gates. Most of them left it on the altar."

"Why stay here, though?" Jaheira asked.

"Not listening?" The woman shook her head. "Not listening. Nowhere else to go. The forest is good, and keeps things hidden. Keeps Nyalee hidden." She turned, and her deep-set, dark eyes fixed on Kera. "Not from _you_, though, yes? Not from you."

"We didn't mean to come here," Kera said slowly. "We were on our way elsewhere."

"Elsewhere? But why not come here? Nyalee smells it on you. The blood on the altar was spilled for the blood in your body, yes?"

"Yes."

"And _you_," the woman murmured, and she looked at Imoen. "You as well. Both of you. Sisters, yes? Sisters of this blood?"

"Yes," Imoen said, quietly. "That's right. And you? Are you…?"

"No," the woman said, and laughed. "No. That blood is not mine. Never has been. But I know it. Yes, I know it."

"How?"

"The same blood is in my boy."

Kera shivered, and asked, "Your son? He's a Bhaalspawn?"

"He is my boy. Not my son. Not properly. Nyalee did not birth him, but Nyalee raised him. Raised him in the forest and the mountains."

"You always knew what he was?"

"Oh, yes. Always knew."

She wondered why this woman had taken the burden of a Bhaalspawn upon herself, and what had spurred her to make such a choice. _Gorion had_, she thought, and her throat constricted. He had made the same choice, and she could not ask him why.

"Nyalee taught him," the woman said, and grinned. "Taught him all the ways of magic, and how to keep himself safe. How to hear the song in his blood, and how to keep himself strong."

"Your boy," Jaheira said carefully. "Where is he now?"

"He _left_," the woman snarled. She jolted away, and her hands twisted together. "_Left_ me. _Left_ Nyalee. Took all my secrets and left him."

"Why?"

"Took what he needed and left." She slapped a hand against the curving spread of a branch, dragged her fingernails along the bark. "Never coming back, he said. Never wanting to come back." Her eyes flicked to Kera again, and her smile returned, cold and slow. "Come for him, maybe? Come to find him, maybe?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Who is he?"

"His name is Yaga-Shura, my boy," the woman said, and laughed again. "Yaga-Shura is his name."

"Yaga-Shura," Kera whispered. "How…?" _Yaga-Shura,_ she thought, and suppressed the sudden, absurd urge to laugh along with the woman.

"Stronger than Nyalee, you," the woman hissed. "All of you. Sisters, both of you. You are wanting to find Yaga-Shura, yes? Yes?"

"Yes," Kera said warily. "We are."

"He takes my secrets, and now you can take them back. Find him you can, and punish him."

"Punish him?"

"_Kill_ him." She caught Kera's shoulder, tugged her closer. "Kill him, and free Nyalee from him."

"You want him dead?"

"_Yes_. Dead." The woman's fingers sank into Kera's leathers. "Dead."

"Why?"

"He took Nyalee's heart."

Kera looked into the woman's wide dark eyes, and something cold crawled up her spine. "He took your heart."

"Took it with him, back to his place in the Marching Mountains, and Nyalee knows she cannot go there to find it. Cannot go there. Too many of his friends. Too many of his guards. Nyalee needs her heart back, and you and your sister could get it. Find it there."

"How is such a thing possible?"

The woman laughed, and did not loosen her grip on Kera's shoulder. "Possible and done. Nyalee showed him. Showed him how to take out his heart, and hers, to keep them safe. Safe from arrows and swords, and frost and death. Safe from everything."

She remembered Melissan's words in Saradush, and how her face had darkened, and her voice had been quiet and uncertain.

_"They say arrows hit him and he pulls them out and does not bleed. They say even the coldest of spells cannot slow him."_

"Keeps his heart in the fires, he does," the woman added. "In the fires in his fortress. Keeps Nyalee's heart there as well."

Kera swallowed. She could feel the rain as it slid in thick droplets down the back of her neck, as it clung to her lips and her eyelids. "How do we kill him?"

"You don't." One of the woman's hands snaked up and grasped Kera's chin. Rough nails dug against her skin, and she shoved back the urge to jerk away. "Go to his place. Find Nyalee's heart and her boy's heart. Bring them here."

"And then what?" Jaheira demanded.

"Nyalee will cool the flames that keep his heart, and he will die."

"He'll die?"

"He will die," she said. "He will die when he is killed, after that." She blinked, and something in her locked smile seemed frozen, uncertain. "Do this, for Nyalee? Do this?"

Kera nodded slowly. "We'll do this."

* * *

When the rotting gates and the high slopes of stone finally fell behind, and she could see nothing but the dark tangles of the trees, Kera stopped. She swiped raindrops away from her face, and said, "I'm going to try and get us as close as possible to Yaga-Shura's fortress."

"You think she was speaking the truth?" Imoen asked.

"I think so," Jaheira answered. "She certainly thought she was."

"And then?" Haer'Dalis crooked an eyebrow. "Waltz into a fire giant's fortress, my raven? Ask them in which box their invulnerable leader keeps his own heart and that of his foster mother?"

"I suppose," Kera said, and felt apprehension settle in her belly, heavy and twisting. "We're not trying to kill anything while we're there. We're just…"

"Looking for two hearts? An intriguing quest, my raven."

"I _know_," she snapped. "But I don't know what else to do. We can't march in and expect to fight everything that moves. We don't have the time to even _attempt_ anything that mad. Imoen?"

"Yes?"

"If I ask you to stay here, will you?"

"No," her sister answered, and folded her arms. "I won't."

"We'll get in quicker and easier if fewer of us try it."

"You're right." Imoen shook her head, and added, "And who else is going to throw ice spells at fire giants for you?"

"Imoen…"

"I'm coming," she said. "That's all."

"Have it your own way," Kera muttered, a little more spitefully than she intended. "And stay behind Minsc."

"Kera, I _know_."

She turned away, sinking her teeth into the inside of her cheek. _Saradush_, she thought, and wondered how close Yaga-Shura's armies might be now. How many more boulders had hurtled against the walls, and how many more lay dead in the streets there. How many Bhaalspawn blamed for the chaos, and how many who might have deserved that blame.

She grasped Solaufein's wrist, and drew him aside. Over his shoulder, she noticed Jaheira herding the others away, and she smiled slightly.

"I've never fought fire giants," she said.

"Neither have I." One side of his mouth curled up. "We don't have them in the Underdark. That I've noticed, in any case."

"Very funny."

"We stay in the shadows," he said fiercely. "Stay in the shadows, and move quickly. I will be with you."

"I know. I just…"

"It is something that needs to be done."

"You have no nerves to speak of, do you?"

He tipped his head to one side. "Nerves?"

"I mean you don't feel afraid."

"Oh," he said. "Fear is…something to be controlled. A weakness. Something never to be shown. At least, that is what we are taught."

She leaned her forehead against his shoulder, and sighed when his arms wrapped around her. "I just…it's a whole city, Solaufein. A whole city waiting on whether or not we can get there and back fast enough."

His gloved fingers brushed across her cheek. "And that is why we must hurry, yes?"

She turned her head until her lips met his, and she tasted the rain in his mouth. "Yes."

* * *

Solaufein waited, one hand on his sword hilt, and watched as she closed her eyes. He saw her whole body stiffen, and she inhaled deeply. This was not magic as he understood it, no spell with words to be spoken or sung; this was something older, something made possible because of the blood that ran in her small human frame.

He heard Imoen shifting beside him, and Jaheira breathing, and Valygar tugging some strap on his armour tighter. He did not look away from her, and when her eyes rolled behind closed lids, he braced himself.

It happened silently, as it had the other times, and he had long enough to grit his teeth before the ground shattered under his feet. A heartbeat later, he stood beneath the high arches of the place that was no place at all, Bhaal's place, and when he looked across at Kera, her face was white. Without speaking, he caught her hand, and her fingers clenched hard around his.

Her eyes fluttered shut again, and the dizzying wrench of the portal nearly had him stumbling. He righted himself, and when he breathed in, he tasted dry stone and dust and _heat_.

Somewhere behind, he heard Imoen whispering something, and it sounded too loud, bouncing off the close press of stone around him. Deep shadows, he noted first, and the play of copper light ahead. Kera shifted as if to step forward, and he caught her shoulder. "Don't," he murmured into her ear. "Ledge. Stay there."

He dropped into a crouch, and tugged one of his gloves off. He reached out until his fingers crossed the edge, and paused. Hot air stirred against his skin.

"What can you see?"

"Emptiness," he answered, as quietly. "We're very high up."

"I'm sorry."

He smiled, and then he realised that she would not be able to see it, not in this darkness. He murmured, "Don't be. Now follow me, quietly."

He led them through the shadows, and listened to the soft sound of his own breathing and his own boots and the way his belt creaked when he tightened his grip on his sword hilt. He touched the rock again, and felt the heat in it, deep within it. _Underground_, he thought, and some of the tension seeped out of his shoulders. He knew stone and darkness and how to wind a way through them. He knew how to stay in the darkest part of the shadows and wait, and measure time by the slow, patient beat of his own heart.

The ledge lifted around a high archway, and beneath spilled light and the incessant press of the heat. He licked at his lips, tasted salt. Shoulders flat to the stone, he inched forward, and listened. Footsteps, and he heard them first. The jangle of chain against metal, and someone breathing evenly, and then he watched silently as two giants strode through the archway. Marching in time, heads bent, and both of them carried swords across their shoulders.

He waited until they vanished into the darkness of the passageway before he beckoned the others closer.

"Well," Haer'Dalis murmured. "How reassuring that we are in the _correct_ fortress. It would have been most disheartening to learn that there was more than one."

Kera ignored him, and said, "We need to get through that archway."

"Yes," Solaufein said. "I'll go first. Haer'Dalis, I want you following."

"As ordered, my darkling friend."

Moments like this were treacherous, he knew. When the terrain was strange and unknown, and attention had to be given over to navigating, _that_ was when mistakes happened, when attacks turned into violent ambushes. He looked at Kera again, and when she nodded, he glided to the very brink of the ledge. He listened, and then he dropped over, catching his weight with both hands. He dropped onto the jutting edge of the archway below, and paused again. The column that braced the stone arch was rough and pitted, and he found his next set of handholds easily.

He _knew_ this, the slide of rock beneath his palms and his heels, and he swung himself down until his feet touched the ground.

There, he listened again, and heard the cautious sound of the tiefling bard as he climbed, and Kera murmuring something to her sister, and _footsteps_.

He pushed himself flat into the crease of rock between the archway and the passageway wall. Above him, the tiefling stopped. Solaufein drew his sword, and relief coiled through him when he saw a single shadow, fluttering across the opposite column. He waited, aware of the sweat that slid between his shoulder blades.

The fire giant marched across the threshold, and the hot, forge scent of it filled the drow's mouth and nose. He spun, and his sword sheared into the back of the giant's calf muscle. He pirouetted and whipped the blade across again, lower, until it snagged against the ankle bone.

The giant howled, and tried to whirl away. Somewhere overhead, he heard the whine of a spell, and the giant clawed at its face, its fingers and cheeks bristling with frost. Another spell crashed into the giant's chest, and it swayed.

Solaufein yanked his sword free. He heard the soft noise of Haer'Dalis landing beside him, and then the tiefling was moving, drawing his swords in the same motion. The giant thrashed out with huge, gauntleted hands, and the tiefling danced beneath them, moving until he sank both swords into the giant's other leg. The giant toppled, and another spell burst across it. One of its hands rose, the fingers stiff. Solaufein drove his sword to the hilt in its throat, and worked the blade deeper until the giant lay still.

"Very nice," Haer'Dalis said, and grinned. "You dance beautifully, my darkling friend."

He frowned, but before he could think of a response, the tiefling turned to help Jaheira down the last few feet of the column. Even when the druid batted his hands away, his grin stayed.

Kera followed her, and she said nothing, only clasped Solaufein's hand gently. Her thumb rubbed across his palm, and he smiled. He led them further down the corridor, Haer'Dalis on one side, and Valygar on the other. Rippling shadows clung to the walls, and he motioned the others closer, but he knew the dead giant would not lie unnoticed long. The passageway sloped up and under another archway, and through to a high chamber. There, the walls were patterned with circles of gold that gleamed, and the air shone with the heat. Torches fluttered, and the twining flames were bright, almost too bright when he looked sidelong at them.

"Solaufein."

Kera's whisper behind him made him turn. "Yes?"

"Do you know which way we should be going?"

"No."

"Let me?"

He frowned. "How do you know?"

"Yaga-Shura's heart is here somewhere. I could find it."

He looked into her face, pale and ribboned with sweat. Her pupils were distended and black. He did _not_ want her leading, he realised, and it jolted through his stomach. He did _not_ want her to be the first in front of the swing of a giant's sword, not if her thoughts were fixed on Yaga-Shura's heart and nothing else.

"Beside me," he said eventually. "Stay right beside me."

"Solaufein."

"No," he said, softer. She was not entirely herself, not really, not in this place, and he supposed it had to do with her blood and Yaga-Shura. "These giants…"

Her lips thinned, and she nodded. "Alright."

She moved between him and the tiefling bard. Loose wisps of her hair clung to her face, and he could smell the heat on her skin. "Kera?"

She smiled, too quickly, and her lips and her face shone with her sweat. "I'm here."

* * *

Six more giants lay dead, fallen in their own blood, and they hurried, hauling each other up the huge stone steps as they worked deeper into the fortress. Every breath she took scoured her mouth and her lungs, and her leathers clung to her. As they half-ran, half-strode, she heard the footsteps, not far away, and Solaufein ushered them faster. Behind her ribs, she could feel her heartbeat, strong and slow and waiting.

"Up there," she said, and the heat almost stole her words. "Further up."

_Another sibling_, she thought, and she wondered how many she might have to kill. _Might want to kill, _her mind suggested, and she tried to banish the thought.

Sarevok and the woman on the road, the woman who had called her sister.

"Illasera," she murmured aloud, and when Solaufein turned and looked at her, she shook her head. "Nothing."

And in here, amid the heat and the jewels sunk into the stone and heavy darkness, she could feel Yaga-Shura. _No_, she thought. She could feel his heart, and she was certain it was beating in time with her own. His death might save Saradush, and that – _surely_ – that was all she cared for. All she craved, even now, _surely, _even with the heat sinking into her skin and the air shimmering in front of her eyes, and her head all full of Yaga-Shura, and his heart.

"_Kera_."

Solaufein's voice, she realised, and edged. "Yes?"

He cupped her chin, and lifted her face. "I said, I need you to let me go ahead of you."

"Why?"

Something flickered in his red eyes. "Kera."

She wanted to pull away from him, wanted to bolt up the steps. _No_, she thought. This was _Solaufein_, and she could hear the others behind him. _Her friends_, she thought. _Her sister_. "I'm sorry," she said, and it came out half-strangled. "I don't…"

"It's alright," he murmured. Very gently, he touched the side of her face. "Stay behind me?"

She looked at him, and breathed in the stifling air. His armour was splashed with blood, and his white hair hung in damp curtains on either side of his face. She reached out for him, found his arm, and held on. "Yes. Yes, I will."


	23. Nyalee's Boy

_As always, I own little, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Three: Nyalee's Boy**_

She cleared the last step, and the bright glare of flame met her. Three braziers crackled along the stone floor, and the shallow breath she took caught in her throat and she coughed. Inside her leathers, her skin felt slippery, and when she blinked, her eyes stung.

"There," she said, and looked at the brazier, the middle one, and at the heavy twists of gold that circled its rim. "It's in there."

Just ahead of her, Solaufein paused. "Footsteps. Behind us. We need to hurry."

She stared at the beautiful play of the flames. "Imoen?"

"I'm not sure," her sister said, haltingly. "Kera, I'm really not sure if this is going to work or…"

"Do it."

Imoen bowed her head, and murmured soft words. The fire twisted and snapped down, and frost glittered along the rim of the brazier. Another incantation fell from Imoen's lips, and the flames flattened, running white and brittle along their edges. "Kera, quickly."

She was aware of someone slipping past her, and the steel whisper of a sword moving through the hot air. A third spell crackled across the brazier, and she _felt_ it, the giant's heart, thundering in time with her own. She leaned up, and when she braced her hands against the brazier, the cold seared through her gloves. Her breath plumed between her lips, and she reached down. Her hand brushed something soft, something that moved. She tried to grab at it, and it was slippery.

"_Kera_," Imoen said, desperately. "Quickly!"

She dug her fingers in and wrenched the thing out of the brazier. The flames fluttered up again, and the frost hissed away. She stumbled, and Imoen caught her shoulder. She looked down at the thing in her arms, and the thick, warm scent of it filled her head.

"Kera." Imoen again, tugging at her elbow, pulling her away. "Come on. Quickly."

"Yes," she said, and did not take her eyes from it. In the light of the braziers, it shone, and she felt the rich dampness of it against her fingers. "I'll carry it."

"No," Imoen said. "It's going in my pack." She unhooked her pack, and when she wrestled the thing out of her sister's grasp, Kera fought the dreadful urge to lunge after it. Instead, she clenched her fingers and watched as Imoen wrapped the thing up, covered it entirely, and shoved it wholesale into her pack. "Come on," she said, and tugged at Kera's wrist. "We've another one to find yet, remember?"

She looked into her sister's face, into her hazel eyes, and realised suddenly that her ears were full of the sharp, pounding sounds of combat. That the shadows were rippling madly across the high stone walls, that Haer'Dalis was calling out for Jaheira to step back, that Minsc was howling out a taunting battle cry.

_How had she heard nothing past the heavy beating of Yaga-Shura's heart?_

_Solaufein_, she thought, and turned in time to see him diving beneath the swing of a giant's axe. He rolled up onto his feet, and his sword scythed into the meat of the giant's forearm.

"Now," Imoen pleaded, and pulled at her. "Can you feel it? Nyalee's heart?"

"No," she said, raggedly. "I can't."

She turned, and followed Imoen between the braziers. Somewhere behind them, Jaheira cried out. The tearing sound of metal against stone followed, and the solid thud of something big hitting the ground.

"Up there," Imoen said, and gestured. "See it?"

Carved into the rough stone was an alcove, the curves of it lined with gold. Beneath, Kera saw the glossy lines of a chest, and the bright points of jewels sunk into the wood.

"Valygar!" The voice was Jaheira's, and high-pitched. "_Move!_"

Kera guessed the distance up to the alcove, and launched herself off one foot. She caught the rough edge of the stone and hauled herself up. Her heels caught and skidded gracelessly, and more than once, her hands slid. She cleared the edge of the alcove, and Imoen scrambled up after her.

There were pale jewels all along the edge of the lid of the chest, and in the corners, they were green and soft, the green of ancient, strong trees. She found the heavy lock that kept the chest closed, and frowned.

"Let me," Imoen said, and she coaxed the lock open with fingers and the deft press and pull of those slender pieces of metal she always kept hidden inside her tunic.

Kera nudged her gently. "Well done."

"Don't worry about it."

Inside, nested in white silk, lay Nyalee's heart. Barely moving, and when Kera touched it, she felt nothing. The surface of it was dry and thick. She swathed it in cloth that had probably once been an old shirt before cramming it into her pack. She turned, and made herself look down into the chamber, and saw the huge figure of a giant as it turned, axes in both hands. The downward sweep of one axe caught against the haft of Minsc's mace, and the ranger held on.

_The portal_, she thought. She needed to call a portal, _now_, and she needed to bring them all with her.

_All of them._

She closed her eyes and felt them all, felt the way they twisted and moved through the stifling air. The thud as Minsc fell, driven onto his back by the giant's axe. The whirl of motion as Valygar dived into the space between, and the sharp, wet sound of Haer'Dalis' swords through skin. Imoen, breathing rapidly beside her, and Jaheira, her hands spread as she called a great tangle of branches around a giant's feet, her concentration never once wavering. Solaufein, as he drove his sword up and into the back of the giant's wrist.

_All of them_, Kera thought again, and the portal opened up around her.

Her feet jarred against the ground. Almost before her head stopped spinning, she ploughed into Solaufein, hard enough to make him sway. "You're alright?"

He laughed, strained and breathless. His left arm curled around her waist. "Yes."

"You've got them?" Jaheira asked.

She turned away from the drow reluctantly, and nodded. "Yes. We did."

"Good." Jaheira straightened up, and winced.

"You're hurt."

"I'm fine," the druid said, in the same flat tone. "We're all bleeding, and we have little time."

"Yes, but…"

"Saradush," Jaheira said. "Saradush waits."

* * *

At the temple, the rain still fell, veiling the black knots of the branches. Kera strode through the gates, and up the steps, and tried to ignore the whispers that played through the stone beneath her feet. _How had the fires once looked_, she wondered, _twisting thick and fierce and making the rain hiss against their brightness? _

She found Nyalee waiting, her hands twisting together, and her green eyes bright amid the sharp lines of her face.

"You have them?" She darted forward, and stopped. "Have them both?"

"Yes, we have them both."

"Show them? Show them to Nyalee?"

"His first," Kera said, and motioned to Imoen. "Do as you promised."

"Yes. Yes, Nyalee will."

Imoen lifted the heavy wrapped shape of the giant's heart from her pack, and Kera breathed in slowly. She wanted to snatch it away from her sister, wanted to pull the cloth away from it and feel the slow thump of Bhaal's blood in it.

"Oh. Oh, yes." The woman nodded. "Nyalee sees it. Nyalee feels it. Feel it, don't you?"

"Yes," Kera said honestly. "I can feel it."

"His blood, singing in my boy's heart. Always has. Like in yours, yes?"

"Yes."

"Always singing." The woman's hands hovered over the wrapped heart. "Singing so sweetly. Take away the flames, yes? Take away his flames for you?"

"Yes," Kera said, quietly. "Take away his flames."

The woman's thin fingers peeled the wrapping aside. Beneath, the wet thing pulsed slowly. Kera gritted her teeth and stepped back, until her shoulder bumped against Solaufein's. Wordlessly, he found her hand, squeezed.

"Oh, yes." The woman touched the heart, closed her eyes. "Feel the song in it, Nyalee does. So beautiful."

Kera said nothing.

"Here is the heat in him," the woman said, and dragged her fingertips across it. "Here, and the flames that are his. Stop them, Nyalee will. Cool them. Make them cold for you."

Something rippled into the heart when the woman closed her eyes, something that made the red surface shudder until it stilled.

"See?" The woman pushed one finger against it. "See how it is cold, now? Cold and hard?"

"Yes," Kera said.

"Cold and hard, and now, when you kill him, he will die." The woman grinned, and her teeth flashed. "Payment, yes? Nyalee gets her payment?"

"Of course." Kera found the other heart, the smaller one. She handed it across, and the woman laughed.

"So long has Nyalee been without this," the woman said. "So long alone. So long empty, since he took it with him."

She lifted the heart, and breathed in its scent, and something in her face _changed_.

"Nyalee remembers," the woman said, close to a whisper. "Remembers him. Remembers him as a crawling child. So small. So much needing Nyalee. She kept him safe."

"Yes," Kera said uneasily. "Nyalee, listen. Our agreement is done. Yes?"

"No," the woman snapped, and grabbed at Kera's wrist. "_Listen_. He was her boy. He was _Nyalee's_, and nothing else has ever been. Nyalee remembers now. Nyalee remembers."

"We need to go. You need to let go of me."

"Remembers it, she does. How she found him. No one else wanted him. Wanted him to live. Nyalee did. Even with his blood. His blood that sings."

"Nyalee," Kera said again. "You need to let go of me."

"Of you?" The woman's head tilted. "_You_. You and your sister. You with the same blood. _You_ will kill him, yes? Now that his heart is cold?"

"Nyalee. Let go of me. Let us walk out of here. You can stay here," Kera said, quietly, frantically. "Just let me go, and we can leave. That's all you need to do."

"But you want him dead. Nyalee sees his heart, sees how it has no fire to keep it warm. Not anymore."

"We're leaving," Kera said, and tugged her arm free. "We're leaving, and we're leaving you."

"No." The woman's green eyes rolled, and her hands came up, white with fire. Another spell tumbled from her mouth, and Kera lurched to one side when lightning spat from her fingers.

"Please," Kera said, and dodged another spell. "Please don't!"

The woman's head tipped back, and she chanted. Flames licked up from the stone at her feet, and behind her, the trees rustled and twisted. Blindingly bright, the fire arced up, and Kera shied away. She heard the woman calling for the stones of the temple, for _the trees themselves_, and again, the branches groaned and shifted.

She blinked against the glow of the flames, and unsheathed her sword. She waited until those green eyes were closed again, her mouth framing the next words of her spell, and she buried the blade in the woman's throat. Nyalee sagged, the spell lost, and nothing but blood between her lips. Kera caught her, and as the flames fluttered into nothing, she laid her down gently. The woman's head turned, her eyes half shut, and she made no sound.

Kera touched the woman's dark hair, the tresses thick and tangled across her shoulder. "I didn't want to," she said, and she wondered why she had even spoken aloud. "She…I didn't want to."

Solaufein knelt beside her. Almost silently, he murmured back, "Sometimes we are given no choice."

"Yes, but…" _She was just a woman, _Kera thought, and her throat tightened. _Just an old woman driven mad by herself and her boy and this place. _"I know."

"Come," Solaufein said, and he guided her back up to her feet. "We must make haste, yes?"

"Yes." For a long moment, she listened to the sound of the rain against her leathers and the stone and Nyalee's body. "Yes. We need to."

* * *

Under the stone arches, Kera paced. She waited, half-watching while Jaheira healed the long shallow scrape on Haer'Dalis' arm, and checked the purple bruises on Minsc's shoulder.

"Is this place even real?" Imoen asked, her voice hushed.

"I have no idea."

"I wonder why Bhaal wanted it."

"To have somewhere to hide in."

Imoen nudged her. "You did need me in there, you know. With the ice spells."

"And the lock. I know."

"Are you alright?"

She shrugged. "I just want to be moving on."

"Kera?" Jaheira pulled Minsc's tunic back down, and handed his chain shirt across. "Shall we go?"

_To find Yaga-Shura_, she thought, _and to bring him down. _

Ankles and wrists and the back of a giant's calves, she knew; spells to topple, and the solid punishment of heavy weapons to daze. Such things had already been discussed, had already been turned into bad jokes by the tiefling bard and quiet suggestion by the rangers.

She looked past Jaheira, to where Solaufein stood, waiting, one hand on his sword hilt. He smiled, barely, the smallest movement at the corners of his mouth, and she felt some of the tension empty from her shoulders.

"Jaheira, you'll stay with Imoen?"

"Yes."

"Minsc, you and Valygar in front of them?"

"Of course, Kera."

"Haer'Dalis…"

"My raven," he said. "We _know_ this. We have talked on this, yes?"

A city waited for her, a city that had the bad fortune to have become a sanctuary for Bhaalspawn. A city that lay blameless, and should have been allowed to remain such.

_Yes_, she thought, and opened her thoughts to the ancient magic of Bhaal's place again.

* * *

There was shouting, and when her footing jarred, she looked up at the silver arc of a sword in mid-swing. She swore, and dragged her own sword up to block. She was clumsy, and the blade shook horribly. Beside her, Solaufein whirled, his shoulder pushing her aside, and his sword taking off her attacker's head. A man, she noticed. A man in blue and grey, his hands falling open around his hilt.

She watched as he fell, and she saw how he joined others on the crimson ground.

_So many others_, she realised. So many of them, waxen and unmoving. She could feel their deaths, all of them, feel their last breaths still trapped in the wet ground.

"Kera." Haer'Dalis, beside her, ushering her on, and past the dead man, and his dead friends. "Moving, my raven. Keep yourself moving."

There were people, she saw next. Living people, running past them, some of them in the same blue and grey, some of them not. Some of them stopped long enough to draw weapons, and Solaufein and Minsc pushed them back. Others tried to dive past, and Imoen's bow and Valygar's sword halted them. Something needled into her thoughts, and she knew she had to think, had to work out why the noise of combat was so far away, why the ground was so thick with the dead.

_Why they pressed forward so quickly. _

Someone shouted, and the words rang out loud and painful. She looked up again, through the haze of smoke. She breathed in and it stung her throat, along with something else, something that was dark and thick and she _knew_.

She saw him then, the giant, Yaga-Shura. He turned, his huge hands all aflame with a spell, and his dark eyes glittering. He towered above the dead, and the hammer in his hand was dripping.

"Another one?" he said, and his lips stretched into a grin. "Another one of mine, yes? Come to die?"

The white burst of an ice spell shattered against his shoulder, and when he glanced down, Haer'Dalis was moving, Solaufein an inch behind. The tiefling attacked first, and his sword bit into the giant's ankle.

Yaga-Shura swayed, and when Solaufein's blade joined the tiefling's, he howled. Minsc was beside him next, and the solid, repeating thud of his mace against the back of the giant's calf made him cry out. Imoen's follow-up spell had him clawing at his eyes, and when his huge frame wavered, Minsc's mace crashed hard into the back of his knee.

The giant half-fell, and another blow from the mace against his thigh toppled him.

Kera was beside him when he turned his head, the startlingly red mop of his hair dragging against the ground. The giant was breathing in great gulping gasps that shook him. She waited, watched coldly when Solaufein worked the edge of his sword through the thick leather bracers on Yaga-Shura's right forearm. The blade tip sketched a line between the huge bones of his wrist, and the giant's fingers loosened uselessly around the haft of the hammer.

"How?" the giant asked, the word a whisper that snaked into her head.

"Why attack the city?" She crouched beside him, close enough that she could look into the pale angles of his face. "Your idea?"

"I wanted it," he said, and coughed. "You're the one, yes? The one from the north?"

"Yes. You didn't say if it was your idea or not."

"Some of it."

"Did you send Illasera?"

He laughed, and the sound was raw. "Stupid, that one. Thought she was powerful. Thought she could kill the one who killed Sarevok. Kill her?"

"Yes."

His eyes slid closed. "Good."

"Yaga-Shura?"

The dark eyes opened again.

"It was because you left her. You left her alone, and you hated her for helping you, and you trapped her. This is for Nyalee," she said, and drove her sword into his throat. She leaned on the blade until it caught against the solid line of bone at the back of his neck. She closed her eyes and let herself drown in the hot, heady spill of his blood as it pulsed out of him, along with his life. There was fire in it, and she breathed it in, and when she reached out to touch it where it sank against the damp earth, someone clasped her arm.

"No," Solaufein said, quietly. "Kera. Come."

For a sudden, terrible instant, she wanted to wrest free of him. She wanted to be closer to Yaga-Shura, to feel it as the last of the heat left his blood. This was not like Gromnir, who had died quickly and silently beneath the tiefling bard's swords; this was not like Illasera, who had died poorly.

This was something of flame and hatred, and she smiled.

"Kera," Solaufein said again. Insistently, he caught her chin, turned her head until she was looking into his eyes. "Come with me."

She nodded numbly, and let him guide her away, away from Yaga-Shura until she could no longer feel the richness of his death.

"Kera," Jaheira said, and her voice was subdued. "Are you alright?"

"He's dead."

"Yes." The druid hesitated a moment longer, and said, "Kera, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

"We were…Kera, look around you. This isn't a battlefield. This is carnage that was finished by someone else."

She opened her mouth to retort angrily, but the druid's face was ashen. Instead, she obeyed, and saw the ranks of the dead against the red ground. Tents toppled onto their sides and wagons tipped over, and the searing black gouges of spent spells, and always the dead. Giants and men and wizards and soldiers, and she wondered with a sickening lurch how she had not noticed them before, not properly.

"Saradush," she said, and knew the answer.

She turned, and looked to where the city should have been. She saw the jagged edges of towers, crumbling and on fire. On two sides, the walls were torn open. Smoke poured through the broken gates, and she stopped trying to count the dead that littered the causeway up to the gatehouse.

"Late," she said. "We were too late."

"There was no way of knowing," Jaheira began.

"We were too slow," Kera snapped. "Stayed too long in the forest. Lingered too long in his fortress. Took too long talking and thinking and planning. Pick a reason."

She whirled away from them then, all of them. She walked until she no longer cared about the wet, dragging sound of her boots through the crimson mud. She walked until the ground sloped up and the trees masked the grey sky overhead and the air tasted of nothing but trees. She wrapped her hand around her sword hilt, but that made her remember Yaga-Shura's blood, clinging to the blade. She tipped her head back and listened to the wind through the leaves above.

_The same wind that would pull and pluck at the smoke of Saradush. _

She spun again, furiously.

_Why had she ever believed they might get back in time?_

How many people, she wondered, how many of them had perished inside the walls? Had even a few escaped?

She supposed her failure meant her agreement with Melissan was void, and she managed a thin smile. She heard footsteps, deliberately loud, and hands, pushing through the ferns.

"I know you're there," she called over one shoulder. "And I know you don't usually walk that loudly. Stop hiding, Solaufein."

"I was not hiding."

"Did Jaheira send you?"

"No."

"Really? It would be like her." She twisted round, and saw him, poised in front of a leaning oak. "Imoen sent you, then? Yes? Or Minsc? Or any of them? If I'm not in front of them to worry about, then it becomes serious."

"No," he said, in the same measured tone. "I came to see you because I wanted to."

"Must be a happy coincidence, then."

"Kera. I have never seen you…like this."

"No?" She pressed her knuckles against her eyes. "What do you want?"

"To see you."

"Really?" She drew in a long, slow breath. "Solaufein. I'm angry and I've failed and I want to lash out. If you're here, it's going to be at you."

"Then lash out," he said, evenly. "Or tell me to leave you."

She opened her mouth, a vicious retort almost on her tongue. _No_, she thought, and waited while the cool air touched her face. "No, I…please don't go."

She turned to him, and he met her halfway, his arms winding around her waist and his cheek sliding against hers. She held onto him, pressed herself against him. He smelled of Saradush, and dirt, and steel, but under it all, she smelled _him_. He did not speak, did not try to reassure her with empty words.

Solaufein brought her head to his, and when he kissed her, she tasted salt in his mouth. He guided her to the oak, and then onto the ground beside him. Silently, he pulled her against him. The buckles on his armour dug against her, and she did not care, only curled herself closer to him. She let her eyes close, and she felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath her, and each breath he took stirred her damp hair against her forehead. Eventually, she fell asleep like that, lying across his lap, with the weight of his hand sheltering her face.


	24. Ashes

_First off, a really big thank-you to everyone who's reading, reviewing and following this story...thank you all so much. As usual, I own little. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Four – Ashes **_

Under the grey sky, Jaheira made her way up through the trees. The haft of her spear rested against her shoulder, and her leathers were scuffed. She had spent the morning searching through the fallen on the field before the city, and had found too few still breathing. Two men, and with Valygar's help, she had bandaged the dreadful cuts on them. A woman, bleeding in great gushes from her side, and a spell had stemmed the flow enough to patch her up. Three boys, all of them too young to be bearing the wounds that had brought them to their knees.

Another step took her past tangled roots, and then she saw them, the drow with his back to an oak and Kera curled between his legs, her head pillowed against the inside of his thigh. Her eyes were closed, and the drow's hand was buried in her hair.

She brushed past the ferns, and the drow's head came up, cat-quick. She stopped. She needed to tell them to be up on their feet, to come help check the broken walls for survivors, Bhaalspawn or otherwise. To find firewood for supper, to hand out supplies, anything useful.

The drow said nothing. His fingers slipped through the girl's hair, ran gently down the side of her face. He did not look away, and when Jaheira nodded, he smiled slightly. As wordlessly, she turned away, and left them there, and she wondered at the strange ache inside herself.

She found the others in the small glade, Minsc and Imoen rifling through their supplies. The other ranger stood on watch, and Haer'Dalis sat cross-legged nearby, partway through cleaning his swords. She noticed the silence first, and the furtive way Imoen helped Minsc. Even the tiefling was quiet, and his gaze was fixed on the keen edge of the sword in his hands.

"Jaheira?" Imoen hopped up to her feet. "Is she alright?"

Jaheira thought of the girl, asleep in the drow's lap, and how the drow's ebony fingers had played across the side of her face. "She's fine. Tired."

"What's she doing?"

"Sleeping. Imoen, I need you to stay here with Minsc."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going into the city," she said, and when the girl's face fell, she added, "I don't want you coming with me."

Haer'Dalis sheathed his swords. "Shall we see if the carrion crows have left us anything to pick over, then?"

"I'm hoping for survivors."

"A pale hope, my dear, do you not think? Yaga-Shura's men had catapults and spells."

"Just come with me," she said, and heard the frayed note in her own voice. "Valygar, you as well. Carefully and silently."

* * *

Beneath her feet, the causeway was warm, the stone streaked crimson. Slowly, and with Haer'Dalis matching her pace on the right, and Valygar behind them, she wound a careful path through the dead. Dropped weapons and the cluttered lumps of soldiers, blackened and burned inside their armour.

"They walked out through the gates and into spells," Valygar said. "Tried to escape."

"Tried?" Haer'Dalis tilted his head. "Look at the gates, my friend. They were not broken _into_. Someone let these poor fools out to their deaths."

"Yes." Jaheira looked at the odd angles of the gates, half wrenched away. "To force an end to the siege?"

"To stir chaos," Haer'Dalis said, and his grin was venomous. "To seek out some personal vengeance? Who knows? Whichever, it would seem our betrayer's goal achieved itself."

Between the broken spars of the gate, the ground was slippery. She made her way into the first courtyard beyond, and narrowed her eyes at the carnage. Nothing lived, she was certain. There was only the sough of the wind and the ripple of the pennants, the inquisitive scrape of a crow's claws against the wall above.

_No one_, she thought, _no one to tend the dead. No one to guide lost spirits to the place they were meant to go to. _

Melissan had spoken of the city full of Bhaalspawn, and even if the woman had erred on the side of exaggeration, still, their blood would be on the stones of Saradush.

_Blood for Bhaal_, she thought. _Blood of the children, and for the father. _

How long had it been, she wondered, that the doings of Bhaal's children had been twined with her own?

She remembered that day, remembered how the door had opened, and the wind had yanked it out of the stranger's hands as she stumbled into the taproom.

_Two girls, she noted. Both of them wild-haired under loose capes, and the first one short and skinny. Wide eyes set in a pale face, and a tangle of brown hair over narrow shoulders. Behind her, her companion was taller, all arms and legs and the awkward frame of a girl who had not quite yet shed her childhood. They were filthy, and when the shorter one raised her head, Jaheira saw fear in her brown eyes. They nudged each other, and whispered, and the tall one shook her head. The shorter girl glared, and grabbed her companion's elbow, and nodded frantically. Another heated exchange, half-hidden behind raised palms, and the short girl snapped something. _

_ Beside her, Khalid leaned forward. "They are, aren't they?" he murmured. _

_ Jaheira said, "I think so. But why on their own?"_

_ The shorter girl tugged her cape closer around herself and crossed the floor. She sidestepped a burly tradesman and paused, her gloved fingers tapping against her elbows. "Are you Jaheira?"_

_ "Yes." She smiled then, slightly, and looked up into the girl's face. The child's face, she realised. She was filthy, and sweat matted her hair at her temples. Brown eyes amid a face that was all angles. "This is my husband, Khalid. Will you sit with us?"_

_ "You're Gorion's friends?"_

_ "Yes. Yes. We are." _

_ "My name is Kera," the girl said eventually. Her hand twisted against her sword hilt again. "This is my friend, Imoen."_

They discovered the market square deserted, stalls overturned and wagons tipped over. Flames plumed above the wreckage of a building that had been a blacksmith's, a day ago. The air was heavy with smoke, and Jaheira blinked away the dryness.

"Anything?" Valygar asked.

Haer'Dalis shook his head. Beneath the sweat-damp waves of his hair, his face was cold. "No. Nothing lives here."

_"Gorion's dead?" She said the words sharper than she intended, and she saw both girls flinch. "Well?"_

_ "Yes." The shorter one, the one who had spoken more, nodded. "I just _said_ he was," she added defiantly. "I saw him die."_

_ "Who killed him?"_

_ The girl blinked rapidly. "I don't know."_

_ "Describe them."_

_ "Please," Khalid said, softly, and he smiled. "It would help. Anything would help."_

_ "They…four of them. I think four."_

_ "What did they look like?" Jaheira demanded. _

_ "Two of them were ogres. There was a woman as well. A short woman. Black hair. Beautiful."_

_ "And?"_

_ "A man," the shorter girl said, and her eyes brimmed. _

_ Jaheira opened her mouth to interrupt, and Khalid's hand brushed her knee. She stayed silent, and when the girl's eyes cleared, she added, "A very tall man. Armour. He _knew_ Gorion."_

_ "Knew him?" Khalid asked gently. "Knew him how?"_

_ "I don't know. Just…the way they talked. Maybe didn't _know_ him. Knew of him. I don't know. I'm not making any sense. I'm sorry." _

"Jaheira," Valygar said, and his voice was rough. "Don't."

She looked past the ranger's shoulder, to a crooked door. "What is it?"

"Nothing you want to see," he said, and swallowed. "There's nothing left. We need to go."

She shook her head. "Keep looking. I need…if we need to tell Kera that there is nothing here, then there _needs_ to be nothing here."

_"What are you thinking?"_

_ She rolled onto her back and sighed. She watched as Khalid tugged the curtains closed. The girls were across the hallway, she knew, and they had retired looking pale and exhausted and on the verge of weeping again. _

_ "I'm thinking…I don't know. I don't like it." _

_ "I know." _

_ "There's too much we don't know."_

_ "You're not going to send them back to Candlekeep."_

_ She leaned up on one elbow, smiled when Khalid peeled off his tunic and shirt. "I should."_

_ "Jaheira." _

_ "No, I'm not going to send them back to Candlekeep. They're lost children, Khalid. It's just foul luck that we're the ones set to ensure they survive."_

_ He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. He reached out with one hand, toyed with the loose ends of her hair. "Oh, we'll do it if we have to."_

_ "Will we?"_

_ "Yes. I know you."_

_ She smiled again, not quite able to resist. She leaned against the delicate motion of his hand, and when he found the gentle point of her ear, she sighed. "I want to know why Gorion would say so little about them. What's important? They're children. Girls. Two lost little girls. What's so important that he was killed over them?"_

_ "We don't know it was over them," Khalid said, and his voice shook slightly. _

_ "No? Just him? Marvelous coincidence if it was. You heard what they said."_

_ "Yes, I know." His thumb stroked along her jaw. "What do you want to do?"_

_ "What you want to do," she said, and sighed again. "Look after them. Gorion always said…"_

_ "Yes." Khalid's hands delved into her hair, and he turned her face to his. "Duty."_

_ "There's something about them, don't you think? Strength?"_

_ "Yes. They wouldn't have made it here if there wasn't."_

_ "You're wise, my husband." She closed the distance between them, and for a long, teasing moment, she lost herself to the taste of his tongue and his lips. She ran one hand across his chest, followed the span of muscles across his shoulder. "Come here." _

* * *

Kera woke to cool air and the realization that she was still curled between Solaufein's legs. "You haven't moved."

"I didn't want to."

She hesitated a moment longer, and turned so that she could look at him properly. "Thank you."

"Do you want to go back to the others?"

"No. Not yet."

"Then don't," he said.

She sighed, and shifted until her legs were around his hips. She sank against his chest, hid her face against his neck. "Before Ust Natha, the only drow I met properly was a priestess. Her name was Viconia."

"A priestess?"

"She began with Lolth, but she had given her life over to Shar. We travelled with her for some time, and then when we were in Athkatla, we ran into her again. She…" She frowned, and looked away, to where the breeze rustled the ferns. "She had been captured by the city guard, and they were going to burn her."

"For what?"

"For being a drow." She shrugged helplessly. "I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It just seems unfair."

"Kera, I was in danger enough in Ust Natha simply for _being a drow_."

"I know." She looked at him, into his face. "Your eyes are strange."

"No, they aren't," he responded, and sounded mildly affronted. "They're perfectly normal."

She laughed. "For you, yes. They're also quite beautiful."

"_And_ strange?"

"And strange," she said, and her laughter died away. "About Saradush, Solaufein, I don't…"

"You don't have to. Talk if you wish. If not, then don't."

She closed her eyes again, and listened to the soft pulse beneath his throat. She needed to move, she knew. She needed to stand up and find the others and decide. _Decide where to move onto next, decide whether or not to linger any longer, decide whether she could make herself face the broken city. _

"We failed," she said. "Didn't we?"

"We are still alive."

"It's not that simple."

"Perhaps not, but it is still true."

"Solaufein…"

"Those people," he said. "Those people in that city. You did not know them. Their deaths should not be on your shoulders, however much you might think otherwise."

"There were other Bhaalspawn there."

"You are not them," he said, fiercely. "You are still alive. So am I. So are your friends. Survival is not failure."

"You're a drow. You would say that," she snapped, and almost immediately regretted it. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean…do you want me to move?"

"No. Why would I want you to move?"

"You didn't entirely deserve that."

"Kera, you are angry and you are exhausted." His eyes glittered. "Besides, I do remember that you warned me."

"Stay and get shouted at? Hardly a fair choice."

"Come here," he said, and gently drew her against him again.

His hands stroked up and down her back until the rapid, furious thud of her heartbeat subsided a little. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Stay?"

Beneath her, his breathing hitched. "I am not going anywhere."

* * *

Jaheira drew in a breath that was heavy with smoke, and coughed. Her eyes were watering, and angrily, she swiped a hand across her face. She stared at the heap of toppled, blackened stone that had been a temple. "Why?" she said aloud. "What purpose?"

"I know not," Haer'Dalis answered, a little hushed. "This place is famed for trade?"

"Yes."

"No place of great renown, then, nor of great treasure. Unless one counts all the Bhaalspawn who so recently hid here."

_Something_, Jaheira thought. _Something_ was at work, something she did not understand. Something that had pushed and prodded and helped until Yaga-Shura's catapults rolled into range and began the siege. _Who pushed him_, she wondered, and why?

She paused beside the tiefling, and saw how the sweat at his forehead gleamed. "Players that I do not see and do not know. I don't like it."

"No?" He scraped a hand through his hair. "Removing masks is all the more exciting when the mystery is held, yes?"

"On stage, perhaps," she snapped. "I meant…Silvanus guide us, Haer'Dalis. An ambush on the road, and Kera's name is known. Someone helped Yaga-Shura."

"Perhaps. I…It pains to admit this, my fierce beauty. I am at a loss. I do not know. I see chaos and destruction, and yet it seems that you are right. There is method, and I do not understand it. A game, and I do not know its rules, nor where it is played."

"And if these rules are discovered?"

"Jaheira," he said, and frowned. "This is not a plea to stay, is it? To not abandon your charges to the wild? Do you think I _would?_"

"No," she said, and fought against the sudden urge to apologise. "They need…of course not. I did not think that."

"Ah," the bard said, and his dark eyes glittered wickedly. "It is well that such foolishness did not beguile your mind, my friend. It would be most unbecoming of you."

She was tempted to retort, but she heard Valygar's footsteps, hurried and jarring over the cobbles. "What is it?"

"Survivors," he said, and gulped down another breath. "Quickly."

They were past the crumpled wall of an inn, crouched behind large slabs. Four of them, and two of them were children. Jaheira guided them to their feet, and gently healed them, and saw how thin they were beneath their rough smocks. The third was a man, and he was gasping his last breaths through the blood in his throat.

"There is little," Jaheira said, and turned to the fourth, and stopped. "_You_. How is it you are alive?"

"I was…lucky," Melissan answered. She raked her hair away from her face, and it was thick and heavy and matted. "Just lucky. He's…will he be alright?"

Jaheira looked at the man's awful pallor. "You know him, do you?"

"No. I found him. Found all three of them. He was wandering, and bleeding, so I pulled him behind here with me."

"Fortunate," Haer'Dalis said idly. "Are you injured?"

"No, I…no. I don't think so. Scrapes and bruises."

"Fortunate twice over. Perchance you might ask Lady Luck herself if you could wear her dress a while."

Melissan blinked. "But I…why are you here? Where is Kera?"

"Resting."

"May I…did you do it? Did she do it?"

Jaheira ignored her, and knelt beside the children. She touched the taller one's wrist, and murmured, "If you get yourselves some food together, would you leave?"

"Yes," the child said, and tears tracked thick trails down his face. "Yes. Maybe. I…where could we go?"

"Out of here," Jaheira said, and squeezed the child's hand. "Take anything you can carry, and get yourselves out of here."

She waited until the children were gone, two small shadows against the toppled stone. She turned to the man, and saw that his face was grey, the wound in his belly weeping blood. She touched his throat, and felt it as his pulse flickered and faded.

"No bandages at hand?"

"No," Melissan said, quietly. "It was so loud for so long. The inn was on fire, and the temple…I was at the temple. Did you see them? The dead? In the streets?"

"Yes," Jaheira said. "You're not injured?"

"No."

She looked at the woman for a long moment. "Come with us, then."

"Can I see Kera?"

"If you want," she said slowly. "Where will you go afterwards?"

Melissan shook her head. Her hands twisted against each other roughly. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Of course," Haer'Dalis said, and he grinned, all teeth. "Follow me, my flame-haired lady. Let us see if we can bring from this place as much luck as kept you safe within it."

* * *

The dusk deepened as Jaheira led Melissan over the rise, and into the glade. She forestalled Imoen's questions with one hand, and waited while Valygar guided the woman across to the fire, and passed her a plate with cold meat. Haer'Dalis leaned against the uneven edge of a boulder and said nothing.

"Jaheira," Imoen whispered insistently. "Where did you find her?"

"Later," she said. "Where's Kera?"

"With Solaufein."

Jaheira nodded heavily, and when she made her way through the trees, she realised she was tired again, every muscle worn and aching. The high, arching shape of the beautiful oak tree filled her sight, and she saw them. Kera was twined around the drow, still, and she was kissing him. _No,_ Jaheira thought, and something cold and regretful prickled her belly. They were kissing _each other_, tender and unhurried and open-mouthed. The drow's hands were buried in the girl's hair, and one of hers slipped up to cup the side of his ear.

Jaheira leaned against the branch until it creaked. "Kera?" she said, quietly.

A year ago – less – the girl would have yelped and lurched away and blushed scarlet. Now, she only turned, her eyes half-closed. Her fingers traced down the drow's face.

"I'm sorry," she said, and disentangled herself from the drow's arms. "I didn't hear you."

"You need to come back to camp," Jaheira said, a little stiffly. "I went into the city."

"What happened?"

"We've found Melissan. She's alive."


	25. Allies

_As always, a very big thank-you to everyone who's following this story. I own little, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Five: Allies**_

Kera followed Jaheira through the twisting trees. Beside her, Solaufein matched her pace, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. She saw flamelight first, and then the others, Imoen and Minsc laughing near the fire, and Valygar methodically cleaning his chain shirt. _Almost a normal evening_, she thought wryly, until she let herself notice Haer'Dalis, sitting coiled and cross-legged on the boulder. He was looking at Melissan, his eyes dark and hawkish.

"Kera." The woman pushed up to her feet and smiled broadly. "You're alright?"

"Yes."

"Oh. I'm glad. Your friends…"

"The city fell. We didn't get back in time."

"It was not your fault," Melissan said gently. "You did all you could. Yaga-Shura is dead. His army is broken, fleeing."

"All those people," Kera snapped. "_All_ of them. Your blameless Bhaalspawn. The ones you were so keen to save? They're dead."

"What could I have done?" The woman's head turned, and her eyes gleamed wetly. "What? I am not a fighter. I am not a soldier. I did what I could when the walls came down. They were _dying_, Kera. I tried to get some of them to shelter. To hide with me. To try and wait it out. What else should I have done? What else _could_ I have done?"

"I don't know."

"It was dreadful," she said. "The air all full of flame, and the screams. Do you know what it sounds like, hearing a city dying around you?"

"And yet here you stand," Haer'Dalis remarked, blandly. "Nary a scratch on that porcelain skin."

"What does that mean?" Melissan twisted her hands together. "I found some of the children and I made them hide. What else was I meant to do? Face down soldiers? Men with swords? _What else was I meant to do?_"

"I don't know," Kera said wearily. "I'm sorry."

"No, I…I apologise. I am unsettled. We are all unsettled."

"Yes." Kera pressed her fingers against her temples. "Have you eaten?"

"Yes, thank you."

She sat near the fluttering fire, and Solaufein sat beside her, close enough that she could hear the measured rhythm of his breathing. She waited until Melissan joined her, and she looked up and into the woman's beautiful face. "We need to talk about what we're going to do next."

"Yes." Melissan nodded. "I…I need to talk to you."

"What about?"

"Well. It is important. It's also important that we talk about it alone."

"Why?"

"Because…well. _You_ are the Bhaalspawn. These are words meant for you."

Kera shook her head. "No. Anything you need to tell me, you can say in front of my friends. They'll need to hear it as well."

"Kera. These are words that are meant for you."

"Your choice," she said. "Say it now, or don't say it. I don't care."

The silence between them stretched, broken only when Melissan sighed softly. "As you would have it. You _are_ the one who killed Sarevok? In Baldur's Gate?"

"Yes," she answered, stiffly.

"We heard the rumours, and the tales, even down here. That the Iron Throne and its supporters had been brought to its knees, and by a young woman from Candlekeep."

"What's your point?"

"The Bhaalspawn who killed Sarevok must have been strong indeed," Melissan said, and her voice was hushed. "Strong enough to bring him to his death."

_Desperate,_ Kera thought. _Desperate and frantic and wondering how many more punishing strokes from his sword she could endure._ "Yes, well. He died. That was the end of it."

"But it wasn't," Melissan murmured. "The stories, Kera. The stories that came from Baldur's Gate, down here, with the merchants and the mercenaries. You should have heard them. The Children of Bhaal were walking amongst us, they said. The Children of Bhaal would have blood for their father, they said. Perhaps now you understand why I asked if you wished ill against the Bhaalspawn in the city."

"How did it start?" Jaheira asked.

"Here? Two merchant caravans were attacked, and both brought back messages from a woman calling herself Illasera. Messages sometimes carved into the survivors' skin," Melissan said, and blinked. "She was one of the first to declare herself a Child of Bhaal, and it was then that the trade routes became dangerous."

"And Yaga-Shura?"

"He came down from the Marching Mountains."

"But why?" Jaheira tipped her head to one side. "Would he have come unasked? Unprompted?"

"I don't know," Melissan said, and shrugged. "I don't…there are others."

"Others?"

"Other Bhaalspawn." Her head lifted, and her blue eyes sharpened. "Kera, this is what you must know. There is one who calls himself Abazigal, and one who calls herself Sendai."

"Indeed?" Haer'Dalis hopped off the boulder. Casually, he curled himself near the fire, and added, "These names, pretty lady, they roll off your tongue most swiftly, yes?"

"They are names I heard from Gromnir's followers, in the palace in Saradush. They are names I heard whispered from the lips of survivors who ran up the causeway to escape into the city when Yaga-Shura's armies first arrived."

"Abazigal, then," Haer'Dalis said. "Enlighten us further. What shape stands behind this most intriguing name?"

"I am not sure. He is…I don't know. He is in the south, somewhere. There was a mercenary group, and they had come through Amkethran."

"In the desert?" Jaheira shook her head. "That is some fair way south, Melissan."

"Yes." She plucked at her sleeve cuffs. "Perhaps now you see that it is all of Tethyr that suffers, and further, into the deserts."

"This mercenary group? Perchance we may hear where the web of this tale of yours is to be spun next?" Haer'Dalis asked, and every word was genial.

"They came from Amkethran. They said the deserts were fraught with trouble, and attacks were made on caravans. The one behind it sent his soldiers and his monsters out, and he called himself Abazigal, a son of Bhaal."

"And the other?" The tiefling stretched out both legs, and leaned back on his elbows. "This Sendai of yours?"

"A drow," Melissan answered. "They say she is a drow."

"They say?"

"She is a drow. She has her followers, and they come up at night and attack the innocent, and she is Bhaal's daughter."

"They would be outcasts, then, all of them," Solaufein said, softly. "If they have taken to Bhaal's banner instead of Lolth's."

Melissan's head jerked up, and she gazed at the drow for a long, thoughtful moment. "I don't know where they're from, not really. They came up from under the ground, like all drow."

"Oh?" Kera leaned against Solaufein, tipped her head against the crook of his neck. "Do you know numbers? Places?"

"Anything of use, I believe my raven _wishes_ to suggest."

"No," Melissan said, and licked at her lips. "I know…I know this is little to give, and much to ask. I have been in Saradush for so long, and I am afraid I can offer little more."

"And what is it you expect me to do with it?"

"Go south. Go south, and see about these Bhaalspawn the way you dealt with Yaga-Shura."

_Find them_, Kera thought. _Find them and kill them and watch the bright rush of their blood as it flows. _

"South," Jaheira said. "Where?"

"Amkethran. It is there…well, it is there they say Abazigal and Sendai are close. There, the caravan roads are well-guarded out of fear, and some fear to travel at all."

Kera looked into the twining flames and watched as they danced. _South_, she thought. The chaos promised in Alaundo's writings was at work, in Saradush and in the deserts and here, inside her own head. She could demand that Melissan leave, and take her rumours with her, and still, _still, _she would find herself winding a path south, she was certain.

South towards her brothers and her sisters.

"Melissan," Kera said, and smiled. "Would you come with us? Offer your help alongside us?"

"Me? Oh." The woman's pale hands delved into the disheveled fall of her hair. "Oh. I…would slow you down. I am…no, no, I couldn't. Not when…Perhaps I could meet you there? Meet you there later?"

"Meet us there? Why?"

"I know Amkethran. I have been there, though that was before these troubles. I know the people there, and their customs. And I…well. You have done so much already, and much of it because I asked. It would please me greatly if I could know that you were safe there."

Haer'Dalis grinned. "I was not aware Bhaalspawn owned some infernal art that allowed them to stop the free passage of travelers in these realms. Well, aside from stopping them the old-fashioned, blood-letting way."

"Go to Amkethran if you wish," Kera said, and she did not look away from the woman's face, from the deep lucid blue of her eyes. "Perhaps we will see you there."

"Yes. Yes, I…would like that."

"For tonight, will you stay with us?"

"Stay? With you?"

"We are quite some way back from the city," Kera said. "It is already near enough dark. When armies break up and soldiers run, it is never safe to be alone."

The line of the woman's mouth stiffened. "Yes. Yes, you are right. Thank you. That would be most welcome."

"Good." Kera pushed up to her feet. She ached, bone-deep, and she wanted to be away from the dazzling glare of the fire, and this woman and the bright fall of her hair and her nervous smile. "We'll speak in the morning, if you wish."

* * *

Kera knotted the tent flaps, and when she dropped onto the blankets, the breath left her lungs in a shuddering rush. "Was that the right thing to do?"

"Asking her to travel with us, or asking her to stay?"

"Both."

"I do not know," Solaufein said. "I will admit I am curious to know what you would have said had she agreed to travel with us."

She laughed, unsteadily. "I have no idea what I would have said. I just wanted to see what she would say."

"How very drow-like of you," he said mildly. "I would have asked the same, and for the same reason."

She smiled. She wanted to ask him what he thought of Melissan's words, and how easily she had spoken, of names and places and other Bhaalspawn. Of how she had looked at Solaufein with narrowed blue eyes, and how she had never once cared to glance at Imoen, nor ask after her name.

"I didn't like the way she looked at you," she said, before she could think better of it.

"Oh?"

"She…I don't know. It was as if she noticed you for the first time, properly."

"It is not so usual, is it, to see a drow among surfacers?"

"No. But it wasn't just that. It was…I don't know."

"Yes," he said, and found the buckles and laces on her boots. "I think I understand."

She shifted to one side to let him unfasten her weapon belt, and when his hands slid up and under the hem of her tunic, she shivered pleasantly. "There was something else, as well. I…"

Solaufein's fingers traced around her mouth. "Not now. Tomorrow, when we are away, and so is she."

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry. Just…we are taught that keeping silent when needed can be as important as the secret that a drow wishes to whisper aloud."

She nodded again, and turned her attention to the buckles on his armour. He helped her, and when he was shirtless beside her, she looked at him. Behind the panes of the lantern, the small candle fluttered, and the light swam in his white hair. She leaned into him, her forehead against his, until she felt each of his breaths, light and measured and against her lips.

"I feel filthy," Kera said.

"On some other night, I would go with you into the forest, and we could find some stream, some pool somewhere. It would be cold, but you would be clean."

"Not tonight?"

"No," he said, and his arms wound around her waist. "I do not think it would be wise. Not so close to the city…"

"And not with our visitor."

"No." His hands slipped up, and feathered through the straggling end of her braid. "I could comb your hair," he said. "If…you want me to."

She smiled and nodded, and when he found her comb, she sat between his parted knees. He loosened the ties in her hair, and he swept his fingers through first, spreading the damp, sticky waves of her hair.

"You were right," he murmured, and gently played the comb through her hair. "You _are_ filthy."

"So are you."

"Yes." He worked carefully through an insistent knot. "I don't like it."

She heard the smile in his voice. "You're missing your drow luxuries, are you?"

He laughed, low and rich. "Yes. I rather think I am. I may have had few privileges in Ust Natha, but my bathwater was always hot, at least."

"Was it normal, for a commander to have such few privileges?"

"Yes, and no." He teased another tangle apart. "The title has more to do with the amount of scouts and fighters we command. Some drow males gain great privileges through the title, though it takes time, and cleverness. Others make mistakes, and the title and their ability to swing a sword well becomes the only thing keeping them alive."

She leaned back against the solid wall of his chest. "Solaufein."

His arms encircled her again. "Come," he said, eventually. "I will not leave your hair only half attended to."

She shifted forward, and rested both hands over his knees. She felt the faint pressure as the comb curved against the back of her head again. "I've never had a man do this for me before. I mean, apart from you."

"No?"

"No. I like it."

He took his time, and afterwards, he wove her hair back into a single, thick braid. She did not turn around, only clasped his arm around her waist, and drew him down onto the blankets. She reached back, and when she touched his thigh, she found him far too tense, his muscles hard.

"What is it?"

"You have your back to me."

"Yes?"

His fingers tightened around hers. "It is not usual. For drow."

"Oh. I didn't mean…have I offended you?"

"No, it's not that. It is simply that we…do not. Not usually. It is a signal of weakness, or one of trust."

She felt the warm slide of his bare skin against her back, and the rapid thump of his heart. "But…we've woken up like this, I think. In the morning."

"Yes, but that is not a conscious decision. I'm sorry. I'm not making sense."

"No," she said gently. "You are. Do you want me to turn around?"

He kissed the curve of her neck, just above her shoulder. "No. I don't."

* * *

Solaufein woke first and found himself still curled around her, both arms wrapped around her waist, and his face half-buried against the back of her shoulder. Pale light spilled past the knots and touched the edges of the blankets and Kera's hair, where small wisps framed one side of her face. He stayed like that, eyes half-closed, and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms.

When she stirred and stretched, she murmured, "What time is it?"

"Dawn, just."

"Mmm." She relaxed against him again. "You're warm."

"So are you."

"Are you alright?"

He hesitated, and cupped one hand over her hip. "Yes," he said, honestly. "My left arm is almost numb, though."

She rolled over, and when he saw her face, she was grinning. "You could have pushed me off you during the night, you know."

"I was resting."

She laughed, then, laughed until her shoulders shook. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you. I just…"

He smiled. The smallest flush of red coloured her cheeks, and it pleased him. "I am certain I will survive, either way."

She caught his chin between slender, pale fingers. "You have a beautiful smile, Solaufein."

"Thank you," he responded awkwardly, and fought for something to say in return. "Kera, you…"

"You don't need to," she told him. "Please. Don't ever feel like you _need_ to say something back."

He leaned into her touch, and sighed when her fingers slipped up to stroke the tapered length of his ear. "And if I _want_ to?"

"Then by all means," she said, and her grin returned. "As much as you wish."

He opened his mouth to retort, but she tugged his head down, and her lips closed over the tip of his ear.

"Feels good?"

He nodded, and when he felt the gentle scrape of her teeth, he shuddered. "Very good."

She guided his head to one side, and turned her attention to his other ear. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Can we stay in here all day?"

"You say that," he managed, and groaned. "You say that while you're doing_ that?_"

"You didn't answer," she said, and kissed his temple.

"You know we can't." He framed her face between his hands, and looked into her strange surfacer's eyes, black-lashed and brown. "Later?"

"Of course later." She smiled, and added, "I was teasing you."

"I know," he said, and saw that her smile widened a fraction. "Oh, Kera. I prefer you like this."

The words left his tongue before he thought about them. He wondered if he should apologise, but she moved, pushing herself forward and locking her arms around him. She was small and slim against him, and when he kissed her, her mouth worked desperately against his.

"Kera?" He ran his hands up and down her back. "Kera, did I say something I should not have said?"

"No. I'm sorry. You did nothing wrong." Her smile returned, a little shaky. "Shall we make ourselves go outside then?"

* * *

She found Melissan near the charcoal circle that had been last night's fire. Quite deliberately, she took Solaufein's hand, and approached the woman, and asked, "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh. Kera," Melissan said, and smiled brilliantly. "Yes, I did. Thank you. Jaheira was kind enough to give me space in her tent."

Kera nodded. "You've been fed?"

"Yes. And thank you, again."

"You're welcome."

Kera waited until Valygar and Imoen finished packing the supplies, and asked, "Will you be taking the trade roads to Amkethran?"

"I am not certain yet," Melissan answered. "Perhaps."

"Well," Kera said. "You will be careful?"

"Oh, yes. Of course. I will see you in Amkethran, then? All of you?"

"Yes. May I offer you supplies?"

"Oh, no." Melissan smiled. "I could not."

"Please," Jaheira said, and passed across wrapped rations. "Whether to eat or to barter with."

"As you wish." Her eyes flickered, half-closed. "Thank you, Kera."

Kera nodded, and watched as the woman crossed the glade, her steps light and sure against the ground. She watched until the trees hid her, and she did not turn until Solaufein touched her shoulder.

"Kera?"

"Yes," she answered. "No weapons. Trail rations. Shoes that won't last three leagues."

"I noticed." Solaufein's red eyes narrowed. "And prepared to travel alone."

"There is something about her," Kera said quietly. "It's…like looking into a fog and seeing only the palest of outlines. She is not what she appears."

"On that we are agreed, my raven." Haer'Dalis pushed up to his feet. "But what is she?"

"I have no idea. Can't your planar knowledge step in and help?"

"Oh? Wounded, is it? And by so slight a young girl, again."

"Think she'll go south?" Imoen asked.

"I don't know." Kera rubbed one hand across her forehead. "I'm not sure which would be more unsettling. If we meet her there or if we don't."

"A mystery kept in sight is a little less dangerous," Haer'Dalis said.

"I suppose. I just…I don't know. Gromnir didn't trust her."

"Gromnir was mad," her sister remarked.

"Yes, but…Yaga-Shura knew Illasera. Or knew of her, at least. And these two new names. Other Bhaalspawn." She sighed. "I don't know. I'm not making sense."

"Utterly not," Imoen said, and nudged her. "Come on. We won't get any further south standing around."

Her sister was right, she knew, so she made herself move, made herself check the weight of her sword and settled her pack against her shoulders. She fell into step beside Solaufein, and when he touched the back of her hand, she smiled vaguely, but her thoughts were elsewhere.


	26. Portents

_As always, huge thanks goes to everyone who's following this story. Just a reminder of the rating for this chapter, and of course, I own little. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Six - Portents**_

On the far side of Saradush, the river ran, and the water at the banks lapped at the dead. Blood twined through the water there, and the froth that pushed between high, smooth rocks was stained.

"Cut down trying to escape," Jaheira said, and her voice was hard. "And left here. Just _left here_."

_Fleeing the city_, Kera supposed. Trying to flee and cut down by Yaga-Shura's archers. The wind rattled through dark fletching, and she remembered De'Arnise Keep, and how the crenellations had hidden dropped weapons and dead men. How the cellar walls had been thick with blood and the dripping pieces that had been the servants.

"Oh, gods," Imoen muttered. "There's…oh. Lots of them."

Kera nodded tightly. She wondered if she needed to do something, say something, but Jaheira caught her sister's elbow, and guided her away.

"I have not seen such things in quite some time," Solaufein said, quietly.

She stepped closer, so that the white ends of his hair brushed her shoulder. "When was that? The last time?"

"Many years ago. Matron Mother Ardulace set House Despana against a rival house, and all but three of their great females were killed."

She looked at him, at the steep angles of his face. She needed him to keep speaking, to say anything, anything to keep her thoughts away from the red rush of the water against the rocks. "What happened?"

"The survivors returned. They brought fighters and scouts from another city, and Matron Mother Ardulace had to defend Ust Natha. It was four days of fighting, and many drow died."

"Were you hurt?"

"Yes." Carefully, he moved to her other side, so that he was between her and the river. "It was a long time ago, Kera."

"Ardulace won?"

"Oh, yes. She saved Ust Natha." He added, venomously, "Those drow males who defended the walls until the fourth day _helped_ our Matron Mother save the city."

She squeezed the back of his hand. "Did things like that often happen?"

"No. Within Ust Natha, between the great drow houses, of course. But we do prefer the subtlety of assassins in dark rooms or trickery in the arena. Battles are costly, and when a city is unstable, there are spaces where there should be those in power." He blinked, slowly, and looked away, to where more arrows were sunk into the ground. "I am sorry."

"I asked," she said softly. "And…well. I'd like to know more about you. Growing up in Ust Natha. Being there."

"Really? It was…you know how drow are. How we live."

"Yes, but you're _you_."

He frowned, and steered her past a thick tangle of roots. The trees rose up on both sides, and somewhere behind them, she heard the dull sound of the river as it wound through the rocks. Ahead, Imoen marched beside Jaheira, her shoulder almost touching the druid's, and Kera heard Haer'Dalis' light step behind.

"Oh," Solaufein said. "Perhaps you can promise me something in return?"

"Promise?" she asked, archly. "What kind of promise?"

"Perhaps you could tell me about Candlekeep? And Baldur's Gate?"

She paused mid-step. She tugged him close enough to press a light, teasing kiss against his face, and grinned. "Anything you want."

* * *

The day passed slowly under grey skies, and Saradush fell behind them. Twice, they startled groups of survivors, all of them ragged and ashen and terrified. The first group fled, their footfalls loud and clumsy through the undergrowth. The second stayed long enough to accept directions to the clear streams that ran through the trees, upriver from the city.

The dusk fell deep and blue over the trees, and Kera noticed Imoen's silence again, and how her sister sat with her arms wrapped around her shins. She stared into the fire, and her hazel eyes were narrowed.

"Hey." Kera sat beside her, and when she did not respond, she nudged her sister's shoulder. "You in there?"

Imoen smiled slightly. "Thinking."

"That's my job."

"Funny." She sighed. "You know how it is when you've got something to focus on, so you don't keep worrying?"

"Yes."

"Well, when Melissan was talking at us, I could think about her. Then she left, and all we did today was walk, and now I can't think about anything but Saradush."

"I know."

"All those people, Kera," Imoen said, and her eyes glittered. "I know that sounds stupid. We've seen so much, now. And you and Jaheira and Minsc saw even more when I was in Spellhold. It's just…"

"Go on," Kera said, gently.

"It's always seemed like, well. Things happen. Sometimes we're there for them. Sometimes we're not. But now…Gods. It seems like _we're_ the ones causing it. You and me."

_We are,_ Kera thought grimly. _We are, however much we want the opposite. _"Imoen, have you been having any more dreams?"

"Nothing much."

"What does that mean?"

She shrugged. "That place. Where we go when you call the portals. I dream of it. Just me, walking through it, on my own."

"Nothing else?"

"Not that I remember." She shook her head. "Does it matter?"

"I don't know. I just…I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Imoen said, and grinned faintly. "It's my fault too, you know."

"How's that?"

"Well, when you came to Spellhold to get me, I could've just told you exactly what to do with your rescue attempt."

Kera opened her mouth, thought about it, and managed, "You don't mean that."

"No." Imoen's smile widened, and she tipped her head against Kera's shoulder. "Course I don't. Idiot."

Kera laughed, and she leaned into her sister, so that they were curved against each other, her sister's head nestled beneath hers. "You need a bath."

"Speak for yourself."

She remembered Spellhold, and how she had woken, empty and hollow and aching. She remembered pushing past Jaheira, and grabbing at Imoen, and demanding to know if she was alright.

_"Imoen. Imoen, look at me." Her hands clenched around her friend's wrists. "Imoen. It's me."_

_ "I know." Imoen jerked away from her. "I'm fine. Really." _

_ "No, you're not," she snapped. _

_ "I'll be fine." She tugged at the loose ends of her hair. "Who're your new friends?"_

_ "Oh. This is Valygar, and this is Haer'Dalis."_

_ Imoen nodded furiously. She smiled at Valygar, and he inclined his head in response. She smirked at Haer'Dalis, and murmured, "And what are you supposed to be?"_

_ "_Supposed _to be? There is no supposing about it, little one." Lightly, as if he was not filthy, as if he was not bleeding beneath his leathers from Irenicus' spell, he added, "I am a bard, and my raven has told me much about you, little one. I prefer to make a lady's acquaintance in prettier surroundings, but alas, there seems little other option right now." _

_ Imoen laughed, shakily. "Kera, why do you meet strange and interesting people whenever I'm not around?"_

* * *

After her watch, Kera slipped into the tent and into the welcoming circle of Solaufein's arms. He worked her clothes off, and drew her down beside him, so that they were curled against each other, skin to skin. "How far away is this southern place?"

"Amkethran? I'm not sure, exactly. A fair ways, I think. It won't be a short walk." She toyed idly with the braid at his left temple. "You know, growing up, I knew little about drow. I remember reading somewhere in some book that drow are hard to read."

"Hard…to read?"

"Hard to work out what they're thinking. A lot of what gives us away is to do with reading our faces, and you…well, you can't do that with drow."

"We are trained to give away little of our thoughts. Do you…do you find me hard to read?"

"Sometimes," she said, honestly.

"I am sorry, I don't…"

"No," she told him firmly. "I didn't mean it as something you should apologise for. Besides, I read lots of things. Stories. Legends. Songs about battles and fighting. There isn't much else to do at a monastery full of books, but I didn't mind it. Gorion made us attend to our lessons. Writing, reading. Learning history and how to ride horses, and how to care for things in the gardens. I feel as if I'm talking too much."

"No," Solaufein said, and smiled. "You have been too silent, these past days. I…keep speaking? Please?"

Kera nodded, and thoughtfully wound a sheaf of his hair between her fingers. "With Imoen, Gorion didn't even mind her practicing her skills on unsuspecting locks at the taverns. Didn't matter how many times she got hauled in, in trouble. He never really got angry. It was like when I bothered the guards to help me spar and practise. Gorion never seemed to mind, not really."

"He knew," Solaufein said. "He knew that you would need those skills. He knew you would leave."

"Yes. I suppose he did. We were just…he can't've expected that it would come so soon." She let his hair slide through her fingers again. "He knew all along, what we were, and he kept it to himself. For so many years, he kept it to himself."

"It is not the same," he said, hesitantly. "But we are taught to keep things close until the need is greatest, if we have to. I do not think your father – Gorion – I do not think he meant to hurt you by this."

"No, I don't think he did." To distract herself, she let her hand play up the slope of his neck, tangling in his hair again. She found his ear, and when his eyes closed, she smiled. "I like it when you do that."

He tilted his head into her palm. "_I_ am not doing _anything_, surfacer girl."

"Fine," she said, mildly. "I like it when you react like that."

"I'm a drow. How else do you expect me to react?"

"You're stubborn sometimes." Her other hand delved into his hair, and she tugged his head down. "Did you know that?"

He laughed, and it turned into a sigh when she nipped at the tip of his ear. "And you are a terrible tease sometimes."

"Mmm. Forgive me?"

His eyes opened, red and level. His hands came up, framed her face. "Yes. Oh, yes."

He kissed her then, frantic and fierce. She said nothing, only rolled onto her back and pulled him on top of her. His skin slid against hers, silken and ebony and _known_. She ran her hands down his sides, over lean muscle, until she found the sharp press of his hipbones. She sighed his name, and when she turned her head to his, she let the heat in his mouth and his hands take her away.

* * *

In the soft greyness between sleep and waking, Kera walked the halls of her father's place, and she listened to the soughing of the wind through the high stone arches. She was alone, and she wondered why, and what test might follow, and what else might be asked.

"God-child. We must speak of your path, and the web that surrounds you."

She turned, slowly, and looked at the woman, the woman who was made of light. She saw the wings again, bright and blazing above the slope of strong shoulders. Amid the ivory planes of the woman's face, the eyes were golden and stern.

"Oh," Kera said. "I wondered when I might see you again. How long will this take?"

"I am not certain."

"I would prefer to be allowed to wake up this time," she said. "Last time…well. Last time, I stayed here too long, and my…my friends were worried."

"Your friends," the woman said, and something flashed in her eyes. "Indeed?"

She remembered how she had woken the first time, after Sarevok had died in front of her again. How she had woken on Solaufein's lap, with Solaufein's arms around her.

"Yes. My friends. And my…" She shook her head and fought for the right word. "Solaufein."

"You are sleeping," the woman said. "You will wake, as you should. You will remember."

"Thank you."

"God-child. What do you know of your mother?"

"Less than I know of my father," she snapped, before she could think better of it. "I'm sorry. I don't…almost nothing. Not her name. Just that she is dead."

"Ah." The woman reached out, and her white fingers touched Kera's hair. "Learn, then, god-child, and prepare yourself."

The sudden flare of light, blade-bright against her eyes, made her stagger. She reached for something, anything, and but the ground rolled under her feet, and she was somewhere else, some _time_ else.

_The rain fell, in heavy cold curtains against the stone. Nearby, someone was singing, rich and low and in measured syllables that rang through her. She tilted her head back and listened to it, listened to the way the words thudded in time to her heartbeat. _

_How long had she waited? _

_How long had she wanted? _

_She remembered that night, all pain and pleasure and the friction of desperate passion. _

_He had come to her in many forms, and some of them chilled her. Some of them made her blood run like the fire in his eyes. He had claimed her that first time wearing a form that was almost human, and she remembered the heat of him. She had known, that night, because he had told her. She had known there would be a child, and she had waited, sometimes patient, sometimes frantic, as the child grew in her. _

_A daughter, the seers at the temple had told her. A daughter who would carry her father's blood, and her father's gifts, and her father's secrets. _

_A daughter who could help bring her father into his flesh once more. _

_Someone touched her shoulder, and she was led away, through the pounding rain. Up the stairs to the altar, and she heard the music, and it chimed through her head. _

_She remembered the birth, and the sudden, flooding pain of it, and her twisting fear. Her faith had wavered. Terribly, her faith had wavered. She had feared the child dead at the birth, and there had been so much blood, and her mind had floated, unmoored above the pain. _

_But then the child had cried, and shaken herself, and she had smiled. _

_She stopped beside the carved alcove, and waited until the child was handed across to her again. Warm within the wrappings, and sleeping. She let herself look at the child's face, pale and framed by the faintest fuzz of brown hair. Six days old, and with deep brown eyes, when she opened them. She cried little, and sighed a lot. She looked down at her daughter – _their_ daughter, she reminded herself – and knew what she had to do._

_It had been decided so long ago, and she had been so proud, so fervently proud to have been chosen as one of his. One of his women, to lie beneath him, her thighs around him while he filled her with himself. _

"_Come. Lay the child upon the stone."_

_She did as she was bid, as she knew she would. The rain thrummed harder, and tracked wet ribbons past her eyes. The child was waking, she saw, twisting against the blankets. Raindrops fell thick and fast against the child's face, against the black sweep of the child's eyelashes. She took the knife, and waited while someone else folded her fingers around the hilt. She felt the weight of it, and knew what it had done to others, and what it would do to the child._

_Her daughter._

_Their daughter. _

_She lifted the knife, and she heard the screams from below, and the running footsteps. She turned, but the rain was too thick, and her eyes were full of it. Something whipped out of the darkness, and she saw red fletching, quivering when the arrow thumped into the ground near her foot. On both sides, she saw them falling, her friends, the dancers, others of his. She raised the knife again, but someone's hand caught her wrist, and twisted hard. She cried out, tried to jerk away. _

"_The knife!"_

_Hands again, on her shoulders, and someone pried her fingers away from the hilt. The blade clattered, and she sprang for it. The same arms wrapped around her waist, hauling her away. She kicked and scratched and snarled until someone's fist cracked against her jaw. _

"_Hold her."_

"_She's still alive." _

"_Just hold her." _

_She twisted, despite the pain in her mouth, despite the roaring in her head. _

"_The child," the second voice said. "Gorion, the child's still breathes."_

"_Bring her."_

"_We can't. We can't carry a child. It's too young."_

"_Bring her," the first voice, male and strong, demanded. "She won't survive. Bring her with us."_

"_Take this one, and we can't take any of the others."_

_In the silence, she thrashed again, and a heel snapped against her temple. She sagged onto the cold, wet stone, and heard him say, "Then we'll take this one, and it will be my choice to bear." _

"No," Kera said, and when soft hands touched her face, she flinched. "Don't touch me."

"Forgive me," the woman said, and the inflexion in her voice changed, roughened. "You had to see it."

"Did I? And what was it? The proof that my mother was, what…? Wanted to kill me?"

"She was a follower of Bhaal," the woman said. "She gave her life up to him, and her womb, that you would be born."

"She wanted me born only to have me killed," Kera said, and the words sat heavy on her tongue. "Why?"

"Her loyalty was to her god."

"Even to…" She shook herself. "What was her name?"

"God-child. Do you need to know?"

"_Yes_. I need to know," she said, angrily. "What was her name?"

"Her name was Alianna."

"Alianna." She said it again, and a third time, and still, it felt strange. "That's a beautiful name. Did she give me my name?"

"No. Gorion gave you your name, when he took you from their temple."

"Why did he choose me?"

"God-child," the woman said.

"No." She dug her fingernails into her palms. "You said I'm here to learn. You said you're here to help me. If you know, you can tell me. Please," she added, and swallowed. "Please."

"You were the youngest."

"And the others?"

"Some escaped. They fled into the woods, those who could walk, or run. Others perished in the cold. When the Harpers came, they came for Bhaal's followers, not to save children."

"Some escaped."

"Yes. One of those was Sarevok."

"Sarevok." Kera laughed. It lurched up out of her throat, and she blinked wildly. "You're saying…no. Sarevok was there?"

"He was some years older than you, and he fled into the night. He survived."

"Until Reiltar found him."

"That path is not yours, god-child," the woman said sternly. "That path was your brother's, and it has been ended."

"Yes." Her throat felt sandy and thick, and when she swallowed again, it hurt. She scowled, and said, "Can I wake up now?"

"I will see you again, god-child." Something softened in the woman's golden eyes. "Think on this, child. Do not let it ensnare your heart. There is more to any mortal than the place and manner of their birth."

* * *

When she stirred, Solaufein was already awake, and he heard her wrenching gasp. Under his hands, her skin was unusually cool. She turned her face against his bare shoulder and said nothing, so he wrapped his arms around her, tightly, and held on.

"Oh. Gods. I saw her. I _was_ her. I saw her, Solaufein. I saw her."

"Kera." He cupped one hand over the back of her head, pushed his fingers through her hair. "I'm listening."

She gulped in a breath. "The woman made of light. The one I told you about."

"You saw her again?"

"Yes. And she…she said I wouldn't be kept away as long. And she…" She shuddered against him. "She showed me my mother."

Slowly, she told him what she had seen, what she had been shown, and he stayed silent and listened to the raw ache in her voice.

"She didn't give me a name. I was there to be sacrificed to Bhaal. Nothing else."

She was shaking again, and he tipped her head up so that he could look into her face. He expected tears, but he saw none, only her eyes, wide and dark and deep. Her skin was chalky, and cold. He did not know what to say, so he ran his fingers through her hair again and again.

"Drow do such things, don't they?"

"Yes," he said. "The priestesses of Lolth send children to her, when asked to."

"But drow are not just bred for that."

"No."

"We were. Imoen as well," she said. "We're only here because our mothers failed."

"No," he told her, fiercely. "Whatever might have happened. _No_. Never think that."

"It's the truth."

"It is the truth because it is such a new truth. _That_ is why it hurts."

"Yes," she said. "Just…I don't know. I don't know what I expected. She _wanted_ to, Solaufein. I was inside her head, and she _wanted_ to, more than anything. If it meant her death, she wanted it."

"And did it mean her death, in the end?"

"Yes. I suppose she died there. She was…her name was Alianna. It's a lovely name, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is."

"How well did you know your mother?"

She wanted to be distracted, and he understood. He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, so that she sprawled across his chest. "Not well," he answered. "She was a female who birthed many other females, as did her sisters. Lolth blessed them."

"Yes," she murmured against his collarbone. "I remember you saying that."

"Yes. I saw her sometimes. She never hated me, and while I am certain she threw her loyalty behind her daughters, she never…well. While she was alive she made certain that, within her own house, there were no unnecessary deaths."

"Unnecessary?"

"She was practical," he said, and found himself smiling slightly. "Very practical. And yet…I don't know. She was not like Ardulace. That is the best I can say it, I think. She was not like that."

"Oh. Good."

He let his hands slide down the dip of her back. "Sleep, Kera. There is some while yet until we must be up."

"I can't sleep."

"Then lie here with me," he said, and guided her so that her legs were either side of his hips, and her face was pillowed against the crook of her shoulder. Her breathing steadied against him. When she drifted off, halfway to sleep, he stayed there beneath her, and waited for the morning.


	27. The Desert

_As always, a huge thank-you to everyone who's following this story. I own little. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Seven – The Desert**_

Under the southern sun, the days were bright and long, and the wind brought with it the scent of sand and dust and heat. The merchant road wound between low rocky hills and unraveled into the shifting plains that bordered the Calim Desert. Six days later, the air turned hot and stifling, and the sun burned in a sky that stayed cloudless. Keeping a measured pace became grueling when the wind whipped through the yellow dunes, and underfoot, the terrain was soft and treacherous. Following Minsc, and hopping into the sloping footsteps he had left in the sand, Kera slogged on. Under her leathers, her skin was running with sweat, and against her neck, her braid was itching and damp. She wanted the swift sunset, and the cool peace of the night, when the wide sand seemed to turn white beneath the bowl of the sky.

Just ahead of her, Imoen staggered and swore. "I hate it."

"I know."

"Who can I blame?"

"Me, if you want."

"No. You look even more miserable than I do. It would seem unfair."

Kera gulped out a laugh. She slowed her pace and shifted her pack against her shoulders again. The weight of it slipped and settled, and her skin crawled. Days until Amkethran, she knew. She _knew_, and yet she could not quell the twist of anger when the sweat slid past her eyelids again.

_Get to Amkethran_, she thought. _Get there and find gear better suited to this place. Just _get_ there. _

The merchant road had proved mostly uneventful, though the deserted campsites and overturned, empty wagons they had found made her wonder. Long trails of footprints in the sand, winding towards grey, heat-shimmered horizons, and little else. Twice, they had discovered bare circles that _must_ have been old campsites, with cold charcoal rings and small pools and high, sheltering cliffs.

_Sendai and Abazigal_, she thought, and the names spun in her thoughts.

_Sendai. _

A drow, and a drow who had marshaled followers loyal enough to pull them away from Lolth's gaze, and into Bhaal's service. This was not, Kera knew, the simple secrecy of worshippers hiding their faith in solitude, of lying through prayers at Lolth's temple, of pretending fealty where none remained.

This was deception that must have become rebellion, and she wondered how Sendai had achieved it, and how many she might command.

Under her feet, the sand gave way, and she stumbled. Beside her, Solaufein caught her arm, steadied her.

"Thank you." She turned, and saw that his face was terse, ribboned with sweat, and his eyes were half-closed. "Are you alright?"

He nodded and said nothing.

She looked at him, properly, and saw how his pulse fluttered in the hollow of his throat, how the heat seemed to roll off him, how his eyelashes were spiked with sweat. She touched the side of his face, and he flinched.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I am fine."

"You are _not_," she snapped. She grabbed his hand, pulled him aside. "You're soaked with sweat and you're far too hot. I can feel it pouring off you."

"It's warm."

"It's also bright. Your eyes are hurting?"

Through gritted teeth, he said, "I can't see distances well. When I try, everything is blurred. And when I look up at the sky, the sun is too bright."

"And you're not wearing your cape because..?"

"It's too hot," he snarled. "I have never _been_ so hot."

"Come here," she said. Over his shoulder, she nodded to Jaheira. While the druid called a halt, she guided the drow away from the others. "We could take your armour off."

"No."

"I'll find you a lighter cape as soon as I can," she said. "Turn around." When he complied, she dug his cape out of his pack and spun the fabric around his shoulders. "You're glaring at me."

"I am not."

"You are," she said mildly, and kissed the tip of his nose. She pulled the hood up, and brushed the damp ends of his hair away from his face. "Does your skin hurt as well?"

"On my face and my neck."

"Then we'll need to keep you covered."

When he nodded wordlessly and tried to move away, she caught his wrist. "Solaufein," she said, gently. "This is not…this is not the weakness you think it is."

"No?"

"No," she told him. "It isn't. It's hot as the hells out here. You've never been under sunlight like this."

"I'm fine."

"You're not." She did not let go of him. "Solaufein. I don't like you hurting. Do you understand me?"

His eyes flashed, but whatever he was going to say vanished, and he only nodded, slowly. She wanted to take his hand again, tell him that there was no need to apologise, but he pushed on past her, his heels digging against the sand. She almost called after him, but his shoulders were stiff beneath the fall of the cape, and the hand she could see around his sword hilt was clenched.

"Kera?" Jaheira asked, and her voice was soft.

"Yes, what?"

"When we stop for the night, give him this," she said, and pressed the wrapped salve into Kera's hand.

"He's refused every day so far."

A tiny smile moved the corners of Jaheira's mouth. "He's proud, child. Ask him again."

* * *

The sun sank, and when the wind finally stilled, Valygar handed out the evening's rations. Behind the scooped-out curve of the rock wall that hid them from the flat, pale sands, water ran and caught against the stone. Ignoring the food, Imoen flung her cape and her gloves off and buried her face against the water until her hair was wet and shining.

"It's cold," she said, and laughed.

Kera smiled. "What does it taste like?"

"Stone."

"Is that a complaint?"

Imoen cupped her hands, raised them to her mouth, brimming. "Never."

She found Solaufein beside the far end of the rocks, one elbow braced, and his gaze turned on the coiling path behind. "Do you feel any better?"

"Yes."

"Take this," she said, and pushed the salve into his free hand. "Don't refuse. Please just take it."

"I…" He shook his head. "I am being foolish, yes?"

She said nothing, only brushed her fingers against his cheeks. "Your skin is still hot. Too hot. It's going to be sore when you get up tomorrow. Please use it?"

He turned then, his eyes slightly narrowed. "As you would have it."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. She knew he had rested little, these past few days, that he had twisted awkwardly on top of the blankets while the tent walls thrummed with the wind.

"Come on," she said gently. "You need to eat something."

"Kera?"

"Yes?"

His thumb caught under her jaw, stroked. "It is not at all like anything I am used to."

She looked at him, at the sweat-matted tumble of his hair, and the way his whole frame was poised as if to flee. She leaned into the gentle pressure of his hand for a long moment, and murmured back, "I know."

* * *

When the nearly full moon hung over the white sand, she went with him to the small pool behind the rocks. The air was heavy and still, even so long after sunset. She waited wordlessly while he sat beside the water, shirtless, his legs crossed and his head bowed. His eyes were closed, and she heard his voice, sinuous words in his own language.

Afterwards, he opened his eyes, and said, "I do not offer my prayers to her as much as I should."

She smiled. "Your faith is hers, though."

"Yes. I just…" He shrugged. "I am…what is the word? Lazy?"

"You're on the surface," she said. "From what I have read, I know Eilistraee enjoys the freedom of her faithful, up here."

"Yes. Yes, you are right." He held one hand out over the pool, splayed and steady. "I simply…I turned to her in silence so often in Ust Natha. In my thoughts. And here, up here, I feel as if…well. I should be singing her prayers every night the moon rises, and so often I do not."

"If it would please you, then please, as often as you want." She looked at him, at his wine-red eyes, softened by the night. "Though…_can_ you sing?"

He laughed. "Yes. Not as well as your tiefling bard, I imagine. But yes. I can sing." His hand moved, dipping beneath the surface. The moonlight shattered around his fingers.

"Feels good?"

"Very," he answered. He reached out, traced his dripping fingertips around her mouth. "What do you expect to find?"

"In Amkethran? I don't know. Some suggestion as to where we might find Sendai and Abazigal, whoever they might prove to be."

"Sendai," he said, thoughtfully. "That she is a drow troubles me."

"Why?"

"Not that Bhaal gave himself to a drow female, but…I am uncertain. If this Sendai has truly gathered followers, and made herself a secret haven beneath the ground, then she might prove most powerful."

"Have you ever heard of anything like it?"

He watched as droplets ran off the ends of his fingers. "The priestesses of Lolth speak of the weakness and the treachery of those who give themselves over to Eilistraee. We hide in secret, and it is not often that more than a few of us admit our faith. The same is true for those of us who dare to follow Shar."

"But Shar," she said, and swallowed. "I've read that she is called a mistress of the night time darkness, and caverns."

"Yes," he said, and his teeth flashed in a smile. "But she is not Lolth. That is what the priestesses in our cities concern themselves over. She is not Lolth. The same is true for Ghaunadaur, and his worshippers. In our cities, they are hated, not because they follow one who deals in trickery and hate, but that they follow one who is male, and one who wishes dominion within the Underdark, and one who is not Lolth."

"Oh, Solaufein."

"You sound so sad when you say my name like that," he said, whisper-quiet. "Why?"

"I don't know."

He cupped his hands until the water filled them, and then he turned to her. "Come here," he said, gently. "It's cold."

Kera smiled, and let him pour the water into her mouth. Some of it missed, and ran in tickling lines down her chin. She laughed, and so did he, and when she scooped up her own handful, he stayed still long enough for her to drip most of it between his lips.

"You are beautiful," she said, and kissed him softly, enjoying the teasing play of his tongue against hers.

"Oh? Shouldn't I say that to you?"

"Mmm. If you want."

He smiled, and when he spoke again, it was in drow, and the words were sibilant.

"Oh?" She grinned and tugged him down beside her. "What did you say?"

"That in this light, even in this heat, you are most lovely."

"Flatterer."

"Am I not allowed to be?"

"Of course you are."

He dipped one hand into the pool again and let the droplets scatter against her face. "Good," he said, fiercely.

She leaned up, and when he slipped his fingers into her mouth, she smiled. Beneath the cool wetness, she tasted his skin, salty and slick. He lay beside her, braced on one elbow, and he toyed idly with her shirt laces.

"It is late," Solaufein said. "You need to rest."

"Not yet," she murmured. "It's too nice out here."

He smiled, and drew her against him. They lingered there, curled against each other, and she rested her cheek against his bare chest and listened to the steady thump of his heart.

* * *

Under the punishing glare of the sun, they pressed on. Solaufein prowled behind Minsc, and every breath between his lips was raw and dry. As they had every day since they had reached the wind-carved sands, they had set out before dawn, while the air still kept some of its nighttime coolness. Now though, his skin felt on fire beneath his armour, and the persistent drag of his damp hair against his neck made him prickle. He wanted to swipe it aside, maybe even braid the whole loose length of it, but the cape was in the way, and even with his head down, his eyes stung. Between his boots he could see the sand, shifting with each step, and he did not trust the sliding, loose way it moved beneath his feet.

"Here," Minsc said, and pressed a waterskin into his hands.

He nodded gratefully and drank. He heard Jaheira calling for a halt, and he sank down onto his heels. Looking behind them, he saw Kera as she leaned against her sister, her face flushed and damp.

Minsc crouched down beside him and murmured, "The sun like this is not good for drow, yes?"

"No," he said, wryly. "It isn't."

The ranger brushed at the sweat that gleamed beneath his eyes. "I do not like it either. It is not warm in Rashemen, and it is too warm here."

"How far away is Rashemen? I do not think I have ever heard of it."

"A long way to the north, and to the east. It is very cold there, and the ice lies on the high grounds even in the summer time. It is very beautiful, my Rashemen."

"How long," Solaufein began. "How long has it been since you were there?"

"Oh?" Minsc tipped his head to one side. "Long time now. Boo and I left there to go on our dajemma, oh…years ago. Two years. Maybe three. Maybe more. Minsc is not very good with numbers." He sighed. "We came with my witch, and then Kera and Imoen helped us to find her again, when we lost her to the gnolls."

"Do you miss it, your home?"

"Home?" The ranger sighed again. "Yes, it is home. But not for now. For now, the road is home, yes, my friend?"

"Yes, it is," he answered, softly.

Minsc straightened up, and pulled the drow up after him. "Come. We should not stay here. Too long we rest, and the longer it'll take us."

Solaufein groaned. "You're right. I know. I just think that terrain should not move like this sand does."

Minsc laughed. "Is it not a skill of the drow, to be able to walk with grace?"

"Not here, apparently. Though that could simply be _my _failing."

Minsc's grin stayed, and he squeezed the drow's shoulder roughly. "It is not a failing, my friend, to not be like the others. Now come, we must walk faster, or the sands will drive even Boo mad with their heat."

* * *

Four days took them down towards the final sweep of the merchant road, and beneath the shadows of high cliffs. The wind keened through the rocks there, and the rough sound of the sand filled Solaufein's ears. He stalked along beside Haer'Dalis, and noted that the tiefling was silent, his hair hanging in thick handfuls over his wiry shoulders, and his eyes narrowed. The sun dipped behind the cliffs as the day wore on, and Jaheira called them on faster. Sensible, Solaufein knew, since the wind was wild and full of sand, and the heat still lingered, but even so, he was aching and tired and wanted to be elsewhere.

_Elsewhere_, he thought sourly, _and clean. _

The twilight faded into night, and the strain around his eyes eased. He flicked his hood back, and almost enjoyed it when the wind tugged and plucked at his hair. He closed his eyes, and listened to the wind against the rock, and the snap of his cape, and something else.

_Bowstrings_, he realised, and he was moving before he thought about it. He grasped Kera's arm, pulled her close, and hissed, "In the rocks. Above us."

She nodded and motioned the others closer to the cliff wall. The wind rose, and for a terrible, waiting moment, Solaufein heard nothing but the scream of it. He peered up at the twisting rock chimneys, and saw nothing but the whirl of the sand.

Jaheira caught his wrist, and muttered, "Numbers?"

He shook his head.

"Keep looking up," the druid warned. She called across to Imoen, "Light, now!"

White light bloomed up somewhere behind him, and Solaufein ignored it. He kept his gaze fixed on the jut of an outcropping, far above, and when he saw the flicker of movement, he smiled. An arrow arced down, and when it thudded into the sand beside him, he saw that it was black and black-fletched, and inscribed with jagged letters.

_Drow_, he thought, not entirely surprised.

"More light," he snapped. "Keep them blind."

He hooked one hand against the rough stone, and swung himself up. He found purchase against the steep wall of the cliff, and another leaping stretch had him nearly to the outcrop. The wind buffeted, this high, and the rattle and scrape of the sand against the rock was unsettlingly loud. A spell wove up the cliff wall, and he heard someone cry out, sharply. Arrows followed, and he heard Valygar growl out a warning. He dug one foot against the rock, and propelled himself up and over the outcrop. He pressed his shoulders against the stone and waited, listening desperately. He could hear them, footsteps against the rock, and the low, measured breathing of someone close by.

_Scouts_, he wondered, _or a deliberate ambush?_

He spun, unsheathing his sword and crashing full-force into the drow scout crouched against the rock. He drove his elbow against the scout's temple, and when the scout went limp, he kicked out the back of his knees. He caught the scout with his free hand, and raked his sword across the male's throat.

He moved along the edge of the outcropping, head bent against the wind. He paused long enough to shed his cape, listened as another spell cracked out. Someone shrieked, and he heard the dreadful sound of something heavy falling. Ahead, he saw another scout, poised and facing away, his bow drawn taut. Three steps took him close enough to hook his left arm around the drow's neck. He yanked the drow back and slammed the pommel of his sword against the drow's wrist. The bow fell, and the string loosened uselessly.

"Don't move," he hissed, in his own language. The male thrashed against him, so he let the edge of his sword dig into the male's neck. "I said _don't_."

The drow sagged, and said nothing.

"Sendai," Solaufein said, into the drow's ear. "Are you hers?"

"Yes."

"Scouts?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Five."

"Including you?"

"Yes."

"Why here?" he asked, and when the male stayed silent, he leaned on his sword.

"The Bhaalspawn," the male said, and tried to twist away from the blade. "The one from Baldur's Gate. The human."

"What about her?"

The male shook his head.

"I _will_ kill you," Solaufein said, very quietly. "Tell me what you know, and I will do it cleanly."

"Sendai, she…" The scout's pale eyes rolled. "There are many of us. Too many. She has the blood of her god in her, and it gives her much strength."

"Where is it that you hide? Where is Sendai's sanctuary?"

"You smell of the surface," the scout said. "The surface and everything that is not drow. What was your crime?"

"The human," Solaufein grated. "What about the human?"

"She will die," the scout said, and smiled strangely. "Sendai wishes it. She will die, and her blood will be spilled for Sendai, and her god."

Solaufein's mind went flat with anger. He drew the sword across the scout's throat, and when he felt the hot gush of blood, he let the scout drop.

He found a third scout further along the outcrop, and he waited until the flash of a spell below sent him staggering back. He cut in low, and his sword glanced against the scout's. He saw surprise on the scout's face, followed by a thin smile and a sudden whirlwind of motion. Solaufein stumbled away, and when his shoulders hit the rock wall behind, he gasped. He was tired, he realised, too tired, too poorly rested, and the heat still clung to him beneath his armour. He blocked one strike, and another, and when the third dipped low and under his guard, he could not follow up fast enough. The point of the scout's sword dug into his thigh and jerked up.

He batted the sword away. The sudden flare of pain jolted him. He spun, and snaked his sword past the scout's blade and into his chest. He did not stop to see this one fall, only kept moving until he was certain the outcrop was clear.

_Five_, the scout had said, and had possibly not lied.

Footsteps scraped behind him, and his shoulders tightened. He whirled, and had his sword halfway raised before he realised he was looking into Haer'Dalis' sparkling dark eyes.

"You are the only darkling breathing up here, I hope?" The tiefling grinned. "We have two of our own decorating the rocks below."

"Good."

Haer'Dalis tilted his head, and something in his gaze sharpened. "Solaufein. My darkling, you look entirely too stern. What happened?"

"I am fine," he said, and the words rolled hollow off his tongue. "The scouts said…Kera needs to hear this."

He slipped past the tiefling, and clambered back down, aware that he was clumsy, the steady throb of the wound in his thigh slowing him. He reached the sands below, and when Kera wrapped herself around him, he pulled back, and said, "You need to hear this."

She looked at him with her odd surfacer's eyes. "What is it? What happened?"

"They know you," he said. "I do not know if they know your name, but they know of you, these drow, and this means that Sendai does, also."

She nodded slowly. "Was this an ambush?"

"No," he answered. "There were too few of them. It was too unplanned."

"So the next time will be an ambush," Jaheira said.

"Yes."

"Then we had best reach Amkethran," Jaheira said, almost musing. "The wind is still up. I doubt we'd rest easy. We could push on."

"Yes," Valygar said, and nodded. "We should. The less time spent out in the open, the safer."

"Solaufein." Kera took his hand and drew him away from the others. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said. He could feel the blood on his thigh, wet and seeping. "We need to hurry, Kera. A missed patrol is always noticed, and when they do not return, Sendai will send more."

"I know."

Her hands threaded into his hair, and she kissed him fiercely. For a lingering, wonderful moment, he wanted to gather her tightly against him, wanted to ignore the way the wind touched his sweat-bathed skin.

"Please," he said, and when he shifted away from her, he saw her smile fade. "We need to hurry."


	28. Songs

_As always, I own very little, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Eight – Songs**_

The night lingered, and the pale burn of the stars was weak through the circles and whirls of dust. Kera marched behind Valygar and silently tried to convince herself that she would not have been able to sleep in any case, not with the wind tugging and pulling and turning every breath gritty._ Not knowing_, she thought, _that Sendai's scouts had made the night their own, and that they waited. _

_ They know you_, Solaufein had said, and that knowledge chased coldness down her spine. Her heritage and her presence, and they had known she would be here, walking the wide roads of the desert, and heading for Amkethran.

She had spent so long in Amn, so long gathering enough coin and enough courage to get herself to Spellhold and find Imoen. So long, she realised, blinded by Irenicus and revenge. Beside her, Solaufein slogged through the wind-whipped sand. She said, "Since Sendai is a drow, I wonder how old she might be."

"Bhaal," he said, and batted loose hair away from his mouth. "When he found females…"

"Yes." She nodded quickly, too quickly. "The writings say that he knew he was going to die, so he took as many women as he could, all kinds of women. Human and elven. Giants. Anything. Drow as well. I don't know really when he began it. I suppose Sendai might not be old, for a drow."

"Kera," Solaufein said. He stopped, head bent against the wind. "Dwelling on this solves nothing. Not out here."

"I know."

"Come," he said, and when he turned away from her, she saw him wince.

"What is it?"

"I am fine."

"You're not." She caught his arm. "You're hurt. Where?"

"My leg," he said, through clenched teeth. "Right leg."

She dropped to her knees, and found blood on his thigh, and a hot, weeping gash beneath split leather. "I didn't…this is going to fester in the heat." She reached into her pack, found the neck of a potion bottle and pulled it out. "Drink this."

He drained it silently, and he did not look at her.

"Solaufein." She listened the soughing of the wind. "Feels better?"

He nodded. "I am sorry. We needed to move quickly."

She kissed him, quickly and clumsily, and tasted the salt on his lips. "It's alright."

He said nothing, and until the sun rose, he walked beside her, close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. Too swiftly, the heat became grueling, and Kera felt sweat threading at the nape of her neck. Her eyes prickled, and when she tugged her tunic straight, the fabric clung to her damp skin.

The noonday sun swung overhead, bright and fierce. Every step seemed to drag and slip against the sand, and when Jaheira raised a hand, Kera stopped gratefully. "What is it?"

"There," the druid answered, and tipped her head. "Amkethran."

White roofs nestled between high shelves of rock, already blurred in the heat, and Kera felt weak relief worm through her. "You know, I didn't even notice. I've been staring at my feet all morning."

Imoen grinned, her face flushed and ribboned with sweat. "And we're standing around for what? Come on."

The merchant road ran winding into the town, and the afternoon sun was relentless overhead. Past two wells, and a white courtyard, they found an inn, smoke twining above and the bleached walls bright against the sand. Inside, the gloom was soft and tempting, and Kera flicked her hood back and found herself smiling slightly.

"You're travelers?" The innkeeper paused, an oil jar in one hand. "Did you come down from the north?"

"Yes," Jaheira answered. "The road's empty for the most part."

"The most part?" The man frowned. "Were you troubled?"

"Last night," she said. "Five of them."

"Oh, gods." The jar clinked against the table. "You'll be wanting rooms? And anything else? Are any of you hurt?"

"All of us hale and hearty, my friend," Haer'Dalis said, and smiled. "Simply tired, and in need of rest and shelter."

"There's been too much…well. Maybe we can speak later, after you've rested yourselves. You're welcome to the bathhouse, and what food you'll need. Forgive me. It's not been usual, lately, to have people coming in from the north unless they've been mercenaries." The innkeeper's dark eyes flickered, and he said, "You've a drow with you?"

Kera stepped a little closer to Solaufein, so that her hip was against his. "He's a friend. You have my word that he'll cause no trouble."

"Alright," the man said, eventually. "I wouldn't be turning gold away. I'm not that much of a fool, not in times like these. Just…be careful, yes?"

"Of course. Thank you." She nodded, and added, almost pleading, "You said something about a bathhouse?"

* * *

She led him across the floor, and felt the delicious, cool touch of the tiles beneath her bare feet. Before he could complain, she unfastened his weapon belt and set to work on the buckles on his chest.

"Into the water," Kera said, and smiled. "And no arguments."

His eyes flickered, and he answered, "No arguments from me."

He slipped into the bath, and she saw his eyes close slowly. He tilted his head back until the ends of his hair ribboned in the water, and he smiled.

"Better?"

"Better."

She grinned, and loosened the ties in his hair. "Lean forward."

When he complied, she filled the dipper and soaked him. She took her time with his hair, her fingers thick with the soap, and she worked it slowly through the heavy white strands. When she sluiced the lather away, he murmured, "And why aren't you in here with me?"

"Because I was enjoying spoiling you far too much."

She peeled off her leathers and kicked them away. She hopped into the water, and the soft, warm heat of it made her gasp. She let him wash her hair, and her aching limbs, and the gentle pressure of his hands had her shivering. But they did not linger, not with the way the water was already dark with grime, and when she dragged herself onto the tiles again, she found that she was trembling.

"You're very tired." He found towels, and patted her dry, and left her hair damp and in a thick curtain across her shoulders. "You haven't rested well."

"No." She leaned against him for a long moment and breathed in the scent of his skin, clean and wet. "You smell good."

"Finally," he said, and smiled.

She tugged her tunic and her leggings back on, and grimaced. "That felt awful."

"Come," he said, and clasped her hand. "You can take them off again soon enough."

She let him guide her down the arched corridor, and into the small, high-roofed room. The shutters were pulled tight across the window, and the air was full of soft shade and the rising scent of bread from the taproom below. As soon as the door closed, she shed the clothes again, and heard him chuckle.

"What's funny?"

"Surfacers," he said, and his grin widened. "And the way you hide behind your clothes."

"Oh? Says the still-clothed drow?"

He raised an eyebrow, and wordlessly shucked his leggings off.

"Much better."

She flung her arms around his waist, and they stumbled to the bed. He laughed, and caught her weight against his chest when they toppled. She kissed him, and shifted so that she was pressed closer to him. She turned her face into his shoulder, and realised that her eyes were prickling and heavy.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"I am so tired."

"You say that as if it is some failure."

He moved, rolling himself out from under her. She opened her mouth to complain, but he gathered her against him, so that they were cleaved together, her back against his chest.

"Kera." The backs of his fingers brushed her cheek, and he murmured, "Sleep. You need to."

She wanted to tell him that his arm was going to go numb again if he stayed like that, if he held her so tightly. But she could feel the measured rise and fall of his breathing, and when he sighed her name into her ear again, she wreathed her hands over his and let herself drift into sleep.

* * *

When the afternoon sun slanted in through the curved windows, Haer'Dalis stepped into the taproom and silently contemplated the pleasure of having clean hair and scrubbed skin and fresh clothes. He had found an old tunic in his pack, soft and light blue, and worked with silver thread at cuffs and collar, and he found himself enjoying the excuse to wear it. He meandered across the stone floor, and counted six patrons in the shadows of the arches. Two soldiers, both of them in leathers, and reeking of the heat and the sand. Four men at another table, a merchant and his lackeys, he supposed, from the way three of them nodded and fawned.

He leaned against the white stone bench and waited while the innkeeper turned.

"Ah," the man said, and his smile turned a little hesitant. "Your rooms?"

"Most welcome," Haer'Dalis answered. "After the heat of the desert. You know it, I am certain, but I must admit, this is the first time I have had cause to come this far south, and even _thinking_ on taking myself outside saps my strength."

The man's smile returned properly, and he answered, "Oh, I know it. Comes the hottest days, and I don't care to be out there, either. Can I get you something to drink?"

"As a stranger both ignorant and newly arrived, I am afraid I'll have to rely upon your generosity as both guide and mentor. Normally I would ask for ale, or spiced wine, but here…" He shrugged, and let his smile stretch. "A suggestion, perhaps? Something cold?"

"Of course."

He watched as the man busied himself at the shelves behind the bench, finding a tall slender cup, and further down, a small ceramic pot.

"Your friends," the man said, his head still down, and Haer'Dalis smiled. "You're on your way down from the north?"

"Yes. We were in Athkatla for a time."

"As much coin there as they say?"

"My friend, there is _never_ as much coin as they say."

"True enough," the man said, and straightened up, a curling pewter jar in his hand. "The roads haven't been safely lately. Oh, these past few months. We've been getting precious few travelers."

"The trade routes turn with the flow of the seasons, I've noticed."

"That'd be true, normally. This is different." The man flipped the pot open, and Haer'Dalis saw the glitter of ice. "We keep it in the cellar," he answered to Haer'Dalis' surprised grin. "Packed up tight and hidden down far enough that it's cool as the night time down there. Of course, it doesn't last as I'd like, but it's to enjoy while it does stay."

He watched as the man spooned ice into the cup, and the tiny silver pieces crackled against the sides. He poured something pale and sweet-smelling over the ice, and Haer'Dalis' mouth was filled with the scent of rose petals and honey.

"Divine," he said, when the first sip flooded across his tongue.

"Your friends," the man said, and leaned on the bench. "Look, I don't like to pry, but you are travelling with a drow, and…"

"Ah, yes. Of course." For a long moment, Haer'Dalis simply sat and noted how the man was regarding him. _Seeing the ears and the strangeness_, he thought, and suppressed another grin. _Ask a very strange stranger about the strangeness of a drow, yes? _"What we said is still true. He's no threat to you, or to anyone. He simply wanders with us, as he will, and he seeks nothing more threatening than that he be left alone on the surface."

"You'll forgive me. It's not my place. It's only…we've heard the oddest of stories. Drow coming up out of the ground at night, and attacking travelers, and stealing nothing. Leaving the dead where they lie."

"I can vouch for his good conduct," Haer'Dalis said gently. "Neither he nor any of my companions would do aught to disturb you or your town. Other than, perhaps, to take advantage of your hospitality."

The man nodded, and something in his frame relaxed. "Again, you'll forgive me. It's simply so unusual…" His dark eyes flicked up, met Haer'Dalis', and darted away. "You'll be staying long?"

"We are not certain, not yet." Haer'Dalis lifted the cup. "Perhaps I may hazard a favour?"

"What is it you're thinking?"

"My friends are travelers, adept at the sword and their own survival. I prefer more…well, put simply, I am a performer. Perhaps I could sing a while some evenings?"

The man grinned. "You're a bard?"

"Indeed," he said, and tilted his head. "I know many a song and more tales, and I'm certain I could unearth plenty indeed to entertain you and your patrons."

"Something cheering," the man said, and grimaced. "I don't mean to…"

"Cheering enough to shame a miser into a smile. You have my word upon it." He leaned closer, and said, "My name is Haer'Dalis."

"Haer'Dalis," the man repeated, and the tiefling saw how awkwardly his name fell from the man's mouth. "If you're here a while, and you need coin, well…"

Haer'Dalis lifted the cup again, and he did not push, only sat and drank.

"The highest hill above the town, there's a monastery. I wouldn't be knowing why, but there's mercenaries coming in and out these days like never before. If you and your friends find yourselves in need of work, maybe you'd find something there."

"We certainly do not count ourselves above simple guard work, not when there's little enough swift gold to be earned, anywhere."

"There's talk of finding these drow," the man said, and rested his elbows on the bench. "Little's come of it yet, and all that comes back from it is some nonsense about Bhaalspawn and too many people dead."

"Your desert is a wide world, my friend, and many could hide themselves in it."

"True enough. But they say the north's getting worse, and with it, so will we." The man grinned, and it wavered. "Forgive me. You're escaping the heat, and I'm burdening you with such thoughts."

"No apologies necessary," Haer'Dalis said, and part of him seethed. The man knew things, knew something, and those things were shuttered away behind trembling lips and the slow beading of sweat on his forehead. "Tonight, my friends will need feeding, and I will sing you a song to make men forget their troubles."

He thanked the man again, and left the cup empty. He turned away, his mouth tingling and cold, and his thoughts all whirling. The man had _wanted_ to speak on, he knew. He had seen it, in the creases in his face, and the shift of his eyes. Something had stilled his tongue, and he wondered if it had been the men in soldier's garb, or the other four, or even he, himself.

_"Always remember," Miss Raelis had said once, while she was curled against him in languid abandon. "Always remember, my sparrow. You cannot hide how you will seem to those of them who blunder across the prime."_

_ "What is it that we should do, then?" He grinned teasingly and rolled her onto her back. "Shave our heads and lose our jewels and pretend our skins are more like theirs?" _

_ "Haer'Dalis."_

_ "Oh? I am sorry, my beauty." He leaned over her, not quite touching her, and he could feel the heat in all the glorious curves of her body. "Tell me then, wise one. Tell me what it is that we should do."_

_ "Play to them," she said, and arched up against him. "Acknowledge such strangeness, and play it to them. You are not them, and you never will be, but you are a bard, and bards dazzle with their words and their smiles."_

_ "And have I dazzled you to your satisfaction, my demanding beauty?"_

_ She kissed him, a taunting brush of her lips, warm and damp. "Not yet, my sparrow. Not yet." _

Haer'Dalis allowed himself the smallest of smiles. How beautiful she had been, that day, and on many others, and how well he had learned the contours of her, beneath the twist of red hair and the player's paint she wore on the stages she adored.

_And how exquisite the shock in her eyes_, he thought, _that day in the prison, when the human girl and her friends unlocked the door, and she _knew_. _

_ "Miss Raelis, I cannot go with you."_

_ "No more plays, Haer'Dalis?"_

She had kissed him then, he recalled, as taunting as ever, and he had accepted her challenge and stepped away from her. Something in her lovely dark eyes had been liquid and strange, and he had turned away, _as she had always known he would_.

Had _he_ known? He wondered at it, and banished the thought.

He rounded the corner, and made his way up the stairs, and paused in front of the door. "My raven? Pry yourself away from your darkling, my little one. We need to speak."

The door opened, and he looked down into Kera's brown eyes, her hair in a disheveled cloud about her face. "What time is it?"

"Near enough sunset, my raven."

"Oh."

"You did _ask_ to be woken before the day fled entirely."

"Yes." She blinked. "Yes. Come in."

He followed her inside, and into the soft haze of the room. It smelled of warmth and clean skin and passion, and he noticed how she swept her hands clumsily through her hair. "Oh, I am sorry, my raven. Were you sleeping?"

"Haer'Dalis."

"No?" He grinned, deliberately wickedly, and watched as she blushed quite delightfully. "You sound so resigned when you speak to me sometimes."

Solaufein sat on the end of the bed, shirtless, legs crossed, and the faintest of smiles on his ebony face.

"Alright." She folded her arms. "You're here now. Speak, tiefling."

"Goodness. I come with helpful information and I find myself blundering into an interrogation. As you would have it." He swung himself onto the windowsill and waited while she closed the door. "There is a monastery here that is seeing more than its fair share of interest, and the man who offers us our hospitality here knows more than he will say."

"A monastery? What else?"

He told her, quickly and carefully, sparing no detail, and he saw how her eyes sharpened. She curled herself beside the drow while he spoke, and slid one hand onto the drow's thigh.

"What is it that he hides?" Solaufein muttered.

"I know not, yet," Haer'Dalis answered. "I will have his knowledge, my darkling. I have promised him songs, and cheerful ones at that. He nearly stumbled today. Give me tonight."

Kera nodded, and quietly, she said, "Thank you."

"Oh? And for what is this gratitude?"

"You know."

"Well, yes. One must earn one's keep, aye, my raven?"

"Haer'Dalis," she said, and he saw the shadows in her eyes, the shadows that had clung to her most terribly at Saradush and Suldenessellar and Spellhold, and before, when he had stepped into the dead ranger's cabin with her, and seen the blood splashed over the white walls. "It's not…"

"My raven," he said, very gently. "Do not be foolish. It does not become you. Now, I will see you at dinner, I hope? You as well, my darkling, since I have promised my new friend that you will not kill or otherwise slaughter _anyone_ while under the brand of my honour."

* * *

When the darkness deepened, Kera tugged the shutters open slightly and let in the spreading cool of the night. Downstairs, she led Solaufein through the taproom to the table in the corner, and she noticed how the merchants near the door eyed him, how the soldiers at the windows fell silent. She bit the inside of her cheek and sat beside him, and wrapped her hands around the tall cup Imoen pushed across to her.

"Imoen?"

"Mmm?"

"Are they still staring at us?"

"Yes," her sister answered, very quietly. "A few of them."

"Ah, you're here." The innkeeper paused beside the table, and smiled. "Your friend Haer'Dalis said you'd be down. Will you be wanting your meals now?"

"Yes," Jaheira replied, and nodded. "Yes, thank you."

"My raven," Haer'Dalis said, from somewhere behind her. "Welcome."

She turned, and smiled when she saw his grin and the bright points of the jewels that hung from the ties in his hair. "You look very pleased with yourself."

"Oh, be assured that I _am_ pleased with myself, not merely that I _look_ to be so," he said mildly, and when he whirled away again, his dark eyes sparkling, Imoen laughed.

Kera leaned against Solaufein's shoulder and felt the tension in him. He stayed silent, even when one of the innkeeper's girls brought flat, warm bread and smaller plates with fruit. Bowls of rice followed, and hot, spiced meats that made Kera's eyes water when she took too big a mouthful. Wordlessly, Solaufein passed her a slice of watermelon, and when she smiled at the welcome coldness of its flavour, something in his eyes lightened.

After the moon rose, and the innkeeper ordered the rest of the oil lamps lit, the tiefling sang, and his voice soared above the swell and rush of conversation.

Idly, Kera half-heard Imoen teasing Valygar, and Jaheira muttering something else in response. She turned, and settled herself properly against Solaufein's chest, and felt his startled inhalation.

"Kera?"

"Mmm?"

"Is this wise?"

She supposed he meant the others, the merchants and the soldiers, but their eyes were on the tiefling where he stood near the windows. She found that she did not care, regardless, not while the air on her skin was cool, and the tiefling's song danced through the silence.

"Not at all," she murmured, and kissed the side of his neck. "You don't mind?"

"No," Solaufein said, and his arms tightened around her. "I don't mind."


	29. The Monastery

_A huge thank-you must go to everyone who's reading, favourite-ing and following this story. As always, reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Monastery**_

When the noonday heat turned the room stifling, Kera curled herself against Solaufein and listened to the sounds of the town outside, slowing down as the afternoon wore on. She had pulled the shutters across, but even so, she could hear the clatter of a wagon somewhere beneath, and the stable boy shouting something. They had spent the early morning outside, and sparred in the courtyard behind the inn, and later, they had gone with Jaheira and Valygar into the town. The streets there were narrow, and dipped between the high bleached walls of small houses, and Kera had seen how the people watched them, watched them sidelong and slowly. The main road ran in wide circles around the town, and curved up the far hill, and they had seen the monastery, and its domed roof and dark windows.

A knock at the door startled her, and she straightened away from the drow. She slid off the windowseat, and opened the door, letting in Haer'Dalis and a rush of warm air.

"Perchance you will play a game with me, my raven," the bard said, and every word came out clipped. "Guess who it is that my new friend downstairs saw. Nay, not just _saw_, but offered hospitality to, and whom _also_ his daughter ran into in the market."

"No," Kera said, and something cold tugged at her gut.

"Oh, yes," Haer'Dalis said, and his teeth flashed in a vicious grin. "The lady herself, and full of woe and tears after the loss of Saradush at the hands of Yaga-Shura. Such carnage, my innkeeper friend told me, such carnage, and the lady was _so very lucky_ to be here at all."

"Yes." Kera shook her head helplessly. "I wasn't thinking…when? Did he say when?"

"Two days before us."

"How?" She pressed her knuckles against her eyes. "No. Wait. The others need to know. We can argue it about then."

The bard nodded, and before she could say anything else, he prowled away, his shoulders set beneath the long fall of his hair. She turned, and noticed Solaufein's expression, speculative and silent. "You don't look surprised."

"I am not." He frowned. "Well, I am, a little. I did not think we would we hear of her quite so swiftly."

"No."

"I thought we made good time through the desert."

"Yes, we did. Especially on those last few days."

She stopped by the windowseat, and rested her forehead against his shoulder. Wordlessly, his arms came up and circled her, and she leaned into him. She stayed like that, eyes closed and with her hands linked at his back, until the door opened again, and Haer'Dalis led the others inside.

"Melissan," Imoen said, after the tiefling explained. "How did she do that?"

"He was _certain?_" Jaheira asked.

"The lady was calling herself Melissan," Haer'Dalis said. "My new friend was most captivated by her beautiful red hair, and by the tears in her beautiful blue eyes, and her courage. To cross the limitless sands alone, a woman, unarmed...well. She must be most exceptional indeed, no?"

"And where did she go?"

"Into the monastery, of course. Into the monastery by _invitation_, and that was the last my friend downstairs saw of her."

"I don't like it," Imoen muttered. "How did…I don't understand it."

"Nor I, little wildflower," Haer'Dalis said, and his dark eyes flashed. "I do not care to be played in a game within which I have not been allowed a single glimpse of the rules."

"Oh?" Imoen nudged him, and her face lightened a little. "I thought you enjoyed getting your teeth into a challenge."

He laughed, and responded, "Oh, indeed, little one, and most assuredly. Layers of dishonesty and trickery can be peeled aside with words or blades or both. Do you see me shrinking from this challenge? Do you see me wilting away from its web?"

"Stop," Imoen said, and grinned. "Just stop. I'm convinced."

"The monastery, then," Jaheira said. "And as soon as possible. Haer'Dalis, you said 'by invitation'?"

"Our flame-haired friend was called up there," he answered, and shrugged idly. "Called up there by a messenger, her presence requested, nay, demanded. Other wanderers stop at the gate and wait to be admitted."

"Yes," the druid said. "I saw that this morning. Kera?"

"Yes," she answered, quietly. "The monastery."

* * *

Outside, the white roofs shimmered beneath the hammer-on-anvil press of the sun. Kera breathed in too quickly, and tried to swallow away the dry rasp of the air in her mouth. She followed Jaheira, and when they wove around the market square, she was aware of the way the merchants turned and watched again, how the women at the stalls with their fluttering, bright fabrics regarded them. The road wound up the hill, and at the first set of gates, three guards waited, their boots and armour heavy with dust.

"You're here about work?"

"Maybe," Kera said. "What's the pay like?"

"Depends what you're willing to do." The guard shrugged. "Alright. Keep your hands away from your weapons, and I'll take you in."

He led them through the gates, and on up the steep slope, and finally into the blessedly cool shadow of an archway. Beyond, he bade them wait in a small courtyard, a colonnade on one side, and a spray of scarlet flowers spilling down one wall. Kera ducked into the gloom of the columns, and when Solaufein joined her, he murmured, "You said to me that Candlekeep was a monastery?"

"Yes, but it wasn't like this. It was quiet like this, but…I don't know. It felt different."

"This feels like a place that is expecting an attack," he said, whisper-quiet.

"Yes."

Somewhere close by, a door opened, and she heard careful, measured footsteps. She turned and saw the man who approached, saw his loose-limbed stance, and the simple brown and white robes that hung off a graceful frame.

"Welcome," the man said, and when he smiled, it did not touch his eyes. "May I offer you refreshment?"

"We're fine, thank you," Kera answered. "We're here…"

"You are here because you are Melissan's friends."

Kera closed her mouth. She looked at the man, tried desperately to see beneath his mild expression, the casual way his hands were wreathed, the faint creases around his mouth.

"I am Balthazar," he said, in the same tone. "This is my monastery, and the monks who abide here are mine."

She nodded, and when she lifted her gaze and met his, her words dried up in her throat.

"You are Melissan's friends, and you are expected."

"Indeed?" Haer'Dalis grinned. He flicked his cape off his shoulders, tossed it unceremoniously at Imoen. "And yet I believe we have missed the lady. Gone and flown like the stars in the night sky."

"Yes," the man said, and his eyes flicked to the tiefling.

"Forgive me." Haer'Dalis frowned, and rubbed one hand across his forehead. "This heat, it blinds me and it turns me sluggish and uncomfortable. I simply wonder how it is that you recognized us, and so fervently."

"She left descriptions and names," the man said. "Two men, two women, a tiefling, a half-elven woman, and a drow. I daresay not the _usual_ group to be travelling in the desert." He turned away from the bard, and said, "You are Kera, and you are here for Sendai."

Kera blinked, and managed to say, "Yes. I suppose we are."

"You'll be wanting payment?"

"Is that not what mercenaries always wish?" Haer'Dalis said. "Coin in recompense for their efforts beneath the claws of monsters?"

"Or beneath the swords of drow, in this case." The man's head tilted, and his level gaze swept from Kera to Solaufein and back again. "The walls of Saradush are burned to the ground, and creatures calling themselves Bhaalspawn cross the deserts and attack travelers. I will not have that, not here. Not while this town looks to my monastery for protection."

"You'll help us?" Jaheira asked.

"I can offer maps, and supplies, if they are needed. I would ask that the townsfolk be disturbed little."

"Yes," Haer'Dalis said blandly. "Their town is subject to too many comings-and-goings of the strangest kinds, these days, I'll warrant."

"Melissan," Kera said. "Where is she?"

"No longer here," the man answered. "My concerns are this town, and the threats that would encroach upon it."

"Threats indeed," the tiefling murmured. "Sendai, then?"

"A drow, and a drow with many followers, and those followers will own much loyalty to her. Could you approach such a creature and survive?"

"Yes," Kera said, fiercely. "We could."

"Then so you shall." The man regarded her through dark eyes, and eventually, he added, "The place where she hides is a sanctuary, of sorts. An enclave, if you will. A warren of tunnels that wind beneath the ground, where the desert turns into forest, in the north-west."

"Numbers?" Jaheira asked.

"With so few survivors, we are left to guess. Those that have returned have wished to speak little of what they saw, or of what may have happened to them there. I would suggest preparation, though as to how to begin to approach a drow settlement…" Something flickered in the man's dark eyes, and he looked at Solaufein again, raking and thoughtful. "You have fought drow before."

"Yes," Kera said. "We have."

"Then perhaps you will succeed. Now, you must forgive me, but there are other matters that require my attention. My guards will find supplies and whatever else you might need. Kera?"

"Yes?" She met his gaze and wondered what he saw as he looked at her, his eyes deep and dark and unrelenting.

"The most I can offer you is this," he said. "You must move fast, and you must move cleverly, for if Sendai knows you are coming for her, your choices will become few, and quickly."

* * *

Kera sat on the bed, her shoulder against Solaufein's, and she thought of the monk's dark eyes, and the coiled grace of his frame beneath the robes.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Oh." She nodded at Jaheira, and mumbled, "Yes. No. I didn't."

Jaheira's lips thinned. "We should leave tonight, as soon as the moon's up."

"If Sendai's drow are expecting us, or even looking for easy prey, they will be moving at night," Solaufein said.

"Yes, but it's a risk I think we should be willing to confront. We'll need to move fast, and we won't do that during the day. It will be some days before we find her sanctuary, and even then, we don't know how easy it might be to get in."

"Or not get in," Imoen muttered. "Are we really thinking of walking up and knocking?"

"No," Solaufein said. "But I have not forgotten the language of my birth, nor the customs of my drow kin. Perhaps…perhaps I can create some deception, even one small enough to simply get us inside."

"Perhaps," Haer'Dalis mused. "We shall see what strange chaos awaits us, I suppose. Though it strikes me, my raven, that this is perhaps the first time we have been paid for such an effort, yes?"

"For going after another Bhaalspawn? Yes." She summoned up a weary smile. "Thinking of going into business for yourself?"

"Bhaalspawn hunting? Oh, I could not. It is not a game that interests me, not when it is checked and balanced by a mercenary's wage. Your face and that of your sister would haunt me too greatly."

Imoen snorted. "I'm convinced."

"Of course you are, little one. Who would not be?"

"It's going to be a fair walk," Valygar said quietly. "And most of it over the desert."

"The portals," Kera said, softly, and tried to ignore the sudden twist of fear in her stomach. "I could…maybe we could try the portals."

"If you're sure," Jaheira said.

"I'm not sure. I'm not sure at all. But…perhaps it might work. I think we need to find Sendai, and the portals work off that." She remembered the temple, and the old woman, her eyes all wild with her madness. "Balthazar gave us maps."

"Yes." The druid frowned slightly. "But, Kera. When we arrived in Saradush, it was not…"

"I know," she muttered. "It was clumsy. But I didn't…how could I have known?"

"You couldn't." Jaheira pushed up to her feet. "If you're willing, we'll try it."

The druid led the others away, and when the door closed, Kera murmured, "Do you think we should?"

"The magic of the portals is not something I understand," Solaufein answered carefully. "If you wish to, then I will be there. If not, then we walk."

"That simply?"

"We need to find Sendai, whether by one way or the other."

"Yes." She let herself look at him then, at the listening tilt of his head, at how his eyes were soft in the gloom. _A drow sanctuary_, she thought, and the same fear coiled through her again. _A sanctuary for a Bhaalspawn drow. Bring an outcast drow into the presence of an enemy Bhaalspawn. A sister who will want his blood shed. _She cupped his chin, let her fingers tangle in the loose fall of his hair.

He was a _drow_, and she was going to let him be surrounded by other drow who would hate him for his faith and hate him for his presence on the surface, and hate him for the bare truth that he was not with them.

"What is it?" Solaufein turned his face into her hand. "Kera," he said, quietly. "You are looking at me very strangely. What is it?"

"I don't know." She looked away from him, and blurted, "I'm worried suddenly that I might…lose you."

"Lose me? Lose me how?"

"You could get hurt."

"You mean I could get killed."

"Yes," she said, and it stung.

"I've been well trained," he said, in the same slightly bewildered tone. "I won't be making foolish mistakes. In the desert, I was tired, and the attack was unexpected."

"No, I know." She searched his face, all sharp, ebony angles. "I didn't mean it like that."

"How did you mean it?"

"I don't know," she said again. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

She shrugged helplessly. "Sendai is a drow."

"You worry that I would…what? Prefer to remain with other drow? Drow who follow your god Bhaal?"

"_No_. Gods, no. That's not what I meant. Not at all." She leaned her forehead against his. "I am afraid for you. That's all."

"I think," he said, and it sounded hesitant. "I think I understand."

She smiled and threaded her hands into his hair and guided him closer. His lips parted eagerly, and she kissed him until she lost herself to the sensation of his tongue in her mouth. He tasted of the sweet wine they had shared at dinner, and when she pulled away long enough to breathe, he brushed soft kisses against her cheeks and her eyelids.

"Solaufein," she murmured.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she said, and wished she had stayed silent. But she could not say it, not properly, not with him looking at her through those red eyes, and not with the slow, coiling fear that prickled beneath her skin. She did not trust her own voice, so she kissed him again. She found his belt buckle and tugged. He slipped her shirt away from her shoulders, and she let herself fall back onto the sheets so he could loosen the ties at her waist.

When he was finally above her, sunk in her, she grasped his hips and tried to coax him faster. "Please," she said, into his ear. "Faster. Rougher."

"No," Solaufein murmured back. "No. Not yet."

She twisted beneath him, desperately, and asked again. He kissed the inside of her wrists, and swung her arms above her head. His other hand wandered down her body. The slow movement of his hips against hers did not change, not until she arched into a climax that wrung a cry from her throat.

"Now?" Solaufein asked.

She made some noise that was half an agreement, half a sob, and he drove himself relentlessly into her. She was aware of the press of the air and the slick feel of the drow's skin and the brush of the drow's breath against her lips, and his voice, when he murmured her name again. His teeth caught against her collarbone, and she tilted her hips, just _slightly_, and he groaned out something she could not understand. He shuddered, and his head dropped against her shoulder.

"Solaufein?"

"Should I move?"

"No." She wrapped her arms around him. Her hands slipped down the damp line of his back. "No. Stay."

He did, shifting his weight slightly, and he murmured, "You are still worried."

"Yes."

"About Sendai?"

"Yes. And about Balthazar. I don't…I don't know what he is."

"He's a man."

"Is that _all_ he is? I just…I want to know how and why he knows Melissan. How is it that she got here first? There's so much I don't know." She kissed the side of his neck. "When we realised we had to go after Sarevok, that was it. _He_ was our mystery, and he was the only one, really. Irenicus and Bodhi were different, but it was…I wanted Imoen back. That was what mattered."

"And now?"

"Now?" She found the end of his ear, gently ran her fingers across the silver rings there. "It's different. I feel as if everyone else knows a lot more than we do. I don't like it. Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Can we move? You're heavier than you look."

He laughed, and he rolled them both over so that she was sprawled across his chest. "Better?"

"Yes. Sorry."

"Foolish surfacer girl," he said, and captured her mouth for a long, teasing kiss. "Do not be sorry."

"Solaufein. Look, at Sendai's sanctuary, if…"

"Stop. This does no good, and you know this. Talking yourself in circles achieves nothing."

"I know."

"Then perhaps you could stop, yes?" He smiled, and said, "Whatever happens at Sendai's sanctuary will happen. I will be fine, and so will you, and I will be with you afterwards."

Whatever she wanted to say lodged in her throat, and again, she was almost glad. What _could_ she say, when she could feel every inch of him beneath her, when his skin was hot against hers, when his hands were sliding through her hair so gently? Whatever she could say would not be right, surely not right, so she hid her face against his shoulder, and said, "I'd like that."

* * *

Solaufein listened to her soft, measured breathing and wondered if she was properly asleep. She had drifted, stirring sometimes to press her lips against his throat. He wondered again at what they might find at Sendai's sanctuary, and could not quite quell the roil of his thoughts. There would be no dragon, this time, and no spell of illusion.

Only himself, and six surfacers who spoke no word of drow. Six surfacers who did not – _could_ not – understand the hand signals that let drow flit through the darkness all the more silently.

Six surfacers who would be marked out by the blood that ran in two of them.

He tightened his arms around Kera's slim frame, and when she sighed something against his shoulder, he smiled slightly.

He knew how drow fought, and so did they, but before, they had worn the dragon's disguise. The drow unleashed on Suldenessellar had fought full of desperation, and he knew that beneath the surface and in the darkness, it would be different. It would be silence and trickery and the noiseless slide of swords into flesh.

_"Take them in the dark, in the paths behind the arena. Wait all the hours that you must." _

_"Yes, Mistress. As you would have it."_

_ He obeyed, and later, he dropped out of the darkness onto the first target, and his blade bit into the male's back. He twisted past the male, and the blade ripped free, and he did not stop. He spun again, kicked out the feet of the second. His sword chimed past the second male's, frantically flung up, and dug between his ribs. He checked them both, checked to see that they were not breathing. He flicked the blood off his sword and sheathed it, and at the temple, he told Matron Mother Ardulace of his success. _

_ "Well done." She nodded briefly, and turned away. _

_ He had expected no less, and he bowed his head once. He made his way past the guards, and through the arches, and it was there that he found his Matron Mother's daughter. She had asked for him before, after he had performed in the arena. She was beautiful and she was proud, and when she saw him, she smiled. _

_ "Solaufein."_

_ He stopped, as he had to, but the smile he responded with was anything but one of duty. "Mistress?"_

_ "Your task is finished?"_

_ "Yes, mistress."_

_ "Good. Come with me." _

Solaufein shook himself, and pushed such thoughts aside. That was the past, and in any case, Sendai's sanctuary had little chance of resembling Ust Natha, not really. Her loyalties might be formed of the same deceptions and the same coercions, but the faith that burned beneath them was so very different. He knew Lolth, and her worshippers, and the prayers they chanted and whispered.

_Bhaal_, he thought. He did not know Bhaal, or the prayers offered to him. He knew only that Bhaal's blood brought Kera trembling out of sleep, that Bhaal's blood granted strange gifts, even to his children who were not faithful.

_What then_, he wondered, _for those who are? _

_ Kera_, he thought. She was slick with their sweat and their scent, and he buried his face against her neck and breathed her in.

"Mmm. Solaufein." Her surfacer's accent was blurred with sleep, and her eyes when she opened them were bleary. "Sorry. I was more tired than I thought."

He ran his hands up and down her back. "We need to get ready."

"Yes. We do, don't we?" She stretched, and her small body slid against his delightfully. Her head lifted again, slightly uncertain. "You…did mean it, didn't you? What you said?"

"Kera." He cradled her face between both hands and looked at her. "Yes, I meant it."

"Good." She flushed, and softly laughed against him. "I suppose we should get ready, shouldn't we?"


	30. Labyrinth

_A huge thank-you to everyone who's following this story. As always, reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty – Labyrinth**_

Under the newly-risen moon, the sand was white and still, the high walls of the cliffs deep with shadow. Kera reached out and touched the rock, and felt the heat still trapped within.

"Kera," Jaheira said. "You're certain about the portal?"

"Yes. I think so. If we can at least get ourselves inside, then…"

"Then we will hopefully _not_ have to slaughter whomever guards the gates," Haer'Dalis said, and his voice was edged. "Aside from those lucky few, do you honestly see this ending any other way, my raven? Hiding from fire giants is a little easier than hiding from drow, especially in their own lair."

"I know," she snapped. "I just…I'm worried. Do you _want_ to hear that? I'm worried we'll walk in there and not last three feet. It'll be dark, and we won't exactly be blending in."

"Ah, my raven. You are thinking on this far too much, and I am unsurprised." Something in the tiefling's eyes softened. "I recall seeing you in Firkraag's lair, and you were most wondrous to behold. Also in the warrens beneath the city, when you faced the beholder, and you killed it. You will not be alone in this, my raven."

"I know." She twisted her hands together and looked across to Solaufein. She wanted to be closer to him. She wanted him in her arms and near enough that she could feel the pace of his heartbeat. But she could not, not now, not with the way he was standing, his whole frame coiled and wary. "Are we ready, then?"

She waited until Jaheira nodded, and so did Imoen, and she closed her eyes and reached into herself. Into that part of her that she knew was not entirely hers, not really, that part that hummed and sang in her blood. Beneath her feet, the sand and the night wrenched away, and she closed her eyes.

"Kera." Solaufein clasped her hand, and wordlessly, he tugged her away from the others. "Forgive me, but I need to tell you something."

She followed him past the twisting stone, and when he stopped, she murmured, "I'm listening."

"If we are caught," he said. "If it happens, then we must be careful."

"Yes. I understand."

"No. I am not certain that you do. I am not sure how to say this." He hesitated a moment longer. "Kera. Sendai's drow, if they discover that you and I…that we are…"

"Oh. Yes." She pressed his fingers to her lips. He was right, but even so, she ached. "Yes. I understand."

"I am sorry," he said haltingly.

"Don't be."

"No, I…I do not wish to hide you. Or to be hidden myself."

"I know." She rested her forehead against his. "This changes nothing."

"I feared that, well, you might," he managed, and stopped. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For understanding me."

He lifted her chin, his lips seeking hers, and when he kissed her, it was frantic and greedy. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders so that they were pressed together. He kissed her again, and a third time, and the fierce movement of his mouth stole her breath and her thoughts.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Be careful."

His hand lingered against her face. "I will."

* * *

He stood beside her and watched as she called the portal out of Bhaal's place, and he could not control the insistent, rapid thud of his heartbeat. How long had it been, he wondered, since he had felt like this, jittery inside his own skin, and with his palms already clammy?

_"Calm yourself," Jysdril said, and his master's voice was sharp. "You're doing nothing a thousand scouts have not done, since we first came down here." _

_ "I know."_

_ "Keep your breathing steady, and watch your balance," Jysdril said. "On the surface, the air will be strange. You'll notice things you shouldn't."_

_ "What things?"_

_ "Trees. The air, moving them. Too much noise. The sky. It'll seem too empty, and then it'll seem too full. _Don't_ let yourself fall into distraction. You do that, and you'll die."_

_ Solaufein glared, and snarled, "I won't." _

_ "Good. I would hate to lose a most promising student." _

Beneath his feet, the ground fell away, and he stumbled. He breathed in the scent of cold stone and he _knew_. He opened his eyes to a low stone roof and the narrow confines of a passageway. Behind, he heard Imoen's soft, startled gasp, and the creak of leather, and someone else's heels, cracking against the stone. There was darkness, that deep, clinging darkness that he knew, and when he heard Imoen ask if she should call up a light spell, he spun and grasped her wrist. "_No_," he hissed, and when she flinched, he let her go. "No light. Not yet. Stay here."

He waited, listening as the silence crept back, and he kept his breathing low and measured. Ahead, the walls opened around the sharp edges of a corner, and when he edged closer, he heard footsteps. Idle, out of time with each other, and he supposed he was hearing bored guards or dallying servants. He drew his sword slowly, and when they rounded the corner, he launched himself at them. There were three of them, he noticed, an instant before he ploughed into the first. His shoulder slammed against metal, and he realised that at least one of them was dressed for the arena. He let the impetus carry him past the drow, and when he spun, he drove his sword into the gap in the armour, just beneath the drow's arm.

He heard the wet, gasping noise of the drow falling, and then he was upon the other two. His first stroke smacked the next drow's sword aside, and the follow-up sank into the drow's throat. The third was a female, and she twisted behind him. He heard the whisper of her blades, and he let himself drop. Her swords cut the air above him, and he spun, still crouching, until his sword bit into her ankles.

He caught her when she toppled, and when her lips parted and her eyes rolled up at him, he carved her throat open.

He let himself stand there, poised, drow blood on his sword, while he listened. _Had it been so long, truly_, he wondered, _since he had handed out death through secrecy in drow tunnels? _

Such thoughts were useless, he knew, so he sheathed his sword. When he reached Kera again, and saw how her eyes were wide and blind in the darkness, he murmured, "It's me. Put your sword down."

She nodded tightly. "How many?"

"Three. Imoen?"

"Yes?"

"Light, now, if you wish it. But keep it small, and be ready to douse it if I ask."

"Yes. Alright." The girl's hands trembled, and it took her two tries to call up a tiny point of white light.

There would be lights deeper in, he supposed, the soft lights that drow favoured. The silvery torches that made the black walls of the temples swim, that made the curling spider designs stand bright and fierce. But these drow were not Lolth's, and he banished such thoughts.

"Solaufein?" Kera, whispering his name, and her fingers brushed the back of his hand. "You're alright?"

"Yes. You'll stay behind me?"

"Of course."

He looked at her for a long moment, at the way the shadows clung beneath her eyes, at the way her pale skin seemed so very strange. "Come," he said, and he heard the uncertain note in his own voice. "We're wasting time."

* * *

The dark, twisting passageways of Sendai's lair were full of shadows, and in the shadows, her drow waited. Kera made herself hang back, turned away and listening while Solaufein scouted ahead. She would wait, teeth gritted, until she heard the inevitable sound of his sword shearing through leather and flesh, and then she would wait again, until he returned. More than once, she wondered why it was that they moved so quickly, so cleanly, through the circling corridors, and she saw the same worry in Jaheira's dark eyes. Twice, they stopped, and she thought she heard footsteps behind, but Solaufein found nothing.

_Being guided_, she thought. _Steered through small groups who pose little threat. Steered into what? _

Beneath her feet, the dark stone slanted upwards, and the small, swaying light painted stark white lines. Ahead, she saw a closed door, and when Solaufein glanced at her, she nodded. He tested the handle, and slowly, he eased the door open. Soft light spilled through the gap, and he motioned to Imoen. The point of light above her shoulder winked out.

The first drow through the door met Solaufein's sword and dropped noiselessly. The second shoved him back against the wall, and the third slipped past, until Minsc's mace sent him sprawling, half his face missing. Others followed, and Kera recalled how drow fought, all savage speed and constant movement and the whip-fast snap of swords. She blocked one drow's strike, and when he pushed harder, so that his blade scraped against hers, she let him. She stepped back, and when his footing betrayed him, she drove her sword into his chest.

A fire spell cleared the doorway, and inside, the six drow left alive fell quickly. Haer'Dalis wrenched his swords out of a dead drow's ribs, and murmured, "Perhaps a little too loud an introduction, yes?"

"Yes." Solaufein nodded. "And that many will be missed, and swiftly."

"Sendai, then," Kera said. "Where would she be?"

"You cannot…feel her?"

"No," she answered, and chewed at the inside of her cheek. "No. I…no. Not yet. Perhaps this place is large, or perhaps…I don't know." She remembered Yaga-Shura's heart, and the blinding anger that had swept through her when she had realised how _close_ it was. She remembered the richness in his blood, in his _life_ as it seeped out of his body. "I don't know," she said again.

"A Matron Mother would be in her temple," Solaufein murmured. "She would be closest to Lolth, but here…"

"I would hazard that this place has always belonged to drow," Haer'Dalis said. "There will be a temple, my darkling. The presence within it may not be Lolth's any longer, but there will be a temple."

"Yes." Solaufein's red eyes narrowed. "Then we must head north, if this place is like any other, and we should not expect whatever follows to be quite so easily overcome."

* * *

Kera followed Solaufein's quiet, careful steps and kept her gaze pinned over his shoulder, at the pale, hanging lamps. They had crossed through more than one armoury, and storerooms, and where the stone corridors met in a crossroads, drow scouts had waited. They had fallen, most of them hewn apart by the solid swings of Minsc's mace, but even so, Kera's shoulders were tight with tension, and the scrape on the outside of her right leg twinged with every step. Ahead, the walls sloped away on both sides, and she saw rising dark steps, and high archways beyond. She remembered Ust Natha, and its maze of corridors and temples and tunnels, and the wide, shocking openness of the arena beneath its high roof.

Solaufein paused, head tilted as he listened. "Against the wall," he snapped. "_Now_."

Footsteps cracked against the stone, too close, but she obeyed, pressing her shoulders flat against the wall. She heard the creak of drawn bowstrings, and in the waiting silence that followed, she knew that this was no accidental encounter.

Someone called something out, the syllables falling harsh and guttural in drow.

Solaufein hesitated, and his hand flexed around his sword hilt. He moved, slowly, letting the light fall across his shoulders and his hair. He responded in the same tone, and he did not lower his sword.

Another demand rang out, loud and relentless, and this time, Solaufein jerked back against the wall.

An arrow sailed out and bit into the corner above his head, and Kera had time to register footsteps again, running and fast, before the drow swept down the stairs. The corridor was narrow, too narrow, and every time she turned to block the swing of a drow's sword, she lost space to move. Another arrow whipped past her, clanged against the wall.

"Imoen," Jaheira called, raggedly. "_Light!_"

Her sister's spell roared overhead, bright and blinding, and she saw Solaufein spinning away, one hand up to shield his eyes. She swore and pushed on, cutting her way past another drow's guard. She needed to reach him, needed to steer him behind her, behind Minsc, away from the flare of the spell. Imoen chanted again, and the white burst of an ice spell rattled past her. Another followed, and she heard the terrible sound of the spell burrowing into metal and leather and skin.

A volley of arrows rang overhead, clipping high against the wall, and Kera realised they were a distraction, part of a trap, nothing more. She spun under the downward stroke a drow's blade, sidestepped, and kicked his feet out. His blood welled around her sword when she drove it into his throat, and the smell of it assailed her, thick and dark.

_Solaufein_, she thought, and twisted, but she could not see him. Somewhere behind, Imoen cried out, startled and shrill. She spun again, and her blade caught against a drow male's hilt. She wrenched away, and flinched when the edge of a dagger dug against the side of her neck.

"Your weapons," someone said, the accent heavy and the voice female. "Drop your weapons, or I'll have your head off your neck before you can think your next thought."

She froze. She looked desperately through the press of drow until she saw Jaheira, her shoulders against the wall, and three swords leveled at her belly. The druid nodded, slightly, and Kera snapped, "Fine."

She dropped her sword, and when the others did the same, the dagger at her neck retreated. The drow female stepped in front of her, and her angled, ebony face was beautiful and set in a smile. "Surfacers," she mused. "Surfacers down here. I wonder why that is?"

Kera said nothing.

"Surfacers," she said again. "And surfacers with their very own pet outcast. Who travels with my kin, and willingly, on the surface? Most unusual, I think."

"You're not Sendai."

"No," the drow answered, and laughed. "How astute. Now. Which one of you is the Bhaalspawn?"

She stayed silent, and she remembered Solaufein's words in the desert, and his certainty.

"Human. Human, and female, and the one who went to Baldur's Gate and killed her brother, Sarevok. Which one of you is it?"

When she shook her head, the female pushed past her. She prowled past Jaheira, and Valygar, and paused beside Imoen. "Hold her."

The two drow behind Imoen grasped her shoulders and her wrists, and when the female settled the dagger beneath Imoen's chin, her eyes widened silently.

"Again," she said. "Which of you is it?"

Imoen's eyes rolled, and when the dagger bit deeper, and blood ribboned her throat, Kera snarled, "_Me_. Now let her _go_."

"There, now. That was not so difficult, was it?" The female turned, and smiled. "My mistress Sendai will know for certain, I am sure."

"Oh? How do you know?"

"She will know. She has waited for you. She knows what you did at Baldur's Gate, and at Saradush. She knows how many of your own kin you have slain already." The female sheathed the dagger. "You will go to my mistress. She would see your face before she kills you."

She wanted to launch herself at the drow, launch herself at her and drag her down onto the floor and choke the life from her. _No_, she thought. _Too many of them. _"And my friends?"

"We will keep them." The drow turned away, and gestured. "Captain Egeissag. See to it."

"Mistress." He bowed his head. "And the outcast?"

"The outcast? I will take him to my chambers."

"As you would have it, mistress."

_No_, Kera thought, and she thrashed against the hands that pulled her arms behind her back. Other hands clamped down on her shoulders, holding her in place. She felt the cold brush of manacles, and her thoughts scattered uselessly.

_The cage opened, and she knew better than to be thankful. All it meant was that his servants would have her shackled, and taken to the room without windows, and tied down while he worked. He rarely spoke while he worked on her. The words came later, through the bars, those days he chose to talk. Instead, his hands moved silently and cleverly, and the light caught his knives as they rose and fell across her body. The pain returned, distant and within her all at once, and she looked up at him again, at the fierce blue of the eyes behind his mask. _

The drow shoved her forwards, and she blinked. She kicked out at him until his grip tightened on her arms again.

"Don't, surfacer," he murmured into her ear. "Sendai can see you whole or bleeding. Your choice."

She subsided, and let him push her towards the steps. She _knew_ she needed to keep her eyes on the ground, or anywhere, but she twisted in his grasp, and she looked desperately for Solaufein. _No_, she thought, when she saw how he was pinned against the wall, swords at his throat and his wrist.

"Surfacer." Behind her, the drow forced her faster. "Keep moving."

* * *

After they took his weapons, and bound his hands behind his back, Solaufein waited. The female ordered her soldiers away with the others, and he saw Jaheira wrestling against the manacles, and Haer'Dalis, and he heard Imoen's gasp as she was chivvied roughly up the steps.

"Now." The female paused before him, her expression speculative. In her hands, she held his sheathed sword and his weapon belt. "Will you walk willingly, or must I have you dragged as well?"

"Is there a choice involved?"

"No."

"Then I will walk willingly."

He followed her up the steps and through the archway. Beyond, the pale torches lit a wide plaza, and he noticed lines of empty cages, and high platforms. "You have need of a slave market here?"

"No. We do not keep surfacers alive long enough." She smiled. "This place was a small outpost before Sendai came here and made it her own."

She led him past the high walls of what might have been an arena, and through twisting alleyways that led past taverns and towers and a forge.

"This is no small outpost."

"Once it was. Sendai has been here some years now, and it grows. With every new follower, it grows."

He smiled, thinly, and said nothing. He watched her as she walked, and recognized the confident gait of a drow who was no lowly scout or fighter or prey for the arena. But rank was a troublesome, deceptive thing, he knew, and perhaps she merely thought to have him intimidated. He trailed her through a high archway, and up a steep causeway, towards the domed roof and towering walls of what could only be the temple. He smelled the incense, thick on the air even out here. Above the gates were no silver curves, though, no splayed out spider shapes, and he felt something odd and heavy settle in his gut.

"No," she said, and stopped to look at him. "This is no temple to Lolth."

"No. I did not expect so."

"And yet you look so startled, outcast."

He clenched his teeth. How foolish had he been, to let his reaction show, and so openly? He stayed silent as she guided him up the causeway, and when the gates were opened, his spine prickled. Inside, the gloom was deep and cool and scented, and soft with the low sound of someone chanting, close by.

"We dance in here," she said, and motioned him across the shining black floor. "We light the fires, and we dance."

He remembered the statues in Ust Natha, and the whispers.

_Lolth watches. _

_ Lolth wants. _

_ Lolth knows. _

And yet these statues were not Lolth's, and the darkness was not Lolth's, and the flame-bright jewels were not Lolth's, and his mind was all full of the temple in the forest, and the figures carved into the altar there.

She said nothing else until they were past the great open chamber and up spiraling stairs. She motioned him past guards, and he counted them wordlessly and noted their weapons, and their stances.

"In here, outcast."

The door closed behind him, and he watched while she crossed the room. She lit the hanging oil lamps, and leaned his sword against the back of a chair, and when she turned back to him, she was smiling.

"I am Diaytha," she said. "I am a priestess, and I have been with Sendai for some time, since this place was small and little known."

He said nothing.

"What are you?" She crossed the floor again, and studied him thoughtfully. "You smell of the surface. You smell _human_. What are you? Their trophy, their pet? Their plaything? You are most striking to look upon, and you are yet rather young, yes?"

"Yes."

"Yes…?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Good. We shall begin simply, outcast. Who are you?"

Defiantly, he met her eyes. "I am Solaufein of Ust Natha."


	31. Cages

_As always, a very big thank you to everyone who's following this story. I own little, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-One – Cages**_

The floor was cold and slick and the single lamp sent the tiniest flutter of light against the walls. Haer'Dalis sat with his hands crossed over his knees and silently simmered. Through the bars, he could see the drow guard's shoulders and the soft fall of his hair as he vanished through the far doorway. He heard the heavy sound of the key in the lock.

The girl was moving again, pacing, rubbing her hands up and down her arms, as she had since the pair of them had been guided inside at the tip of unsheathed swords. He watched her, and wished that she would stop. "Does that help at all, little one?"

"No. Not really." Imoen sat beside him and wound her arms around her knees. "I just…I hate waiting like this. I hate not knowing. Haer'Dalis?"

"Yes, little one?"

"What do you think's happening? To Kera? To Solaufein?"

He looked at her pale, twisting hands and her sunken hazel eyes. He could smell the fear and the sweat on her. He supposed the obvious would be happening, to both his raven and her darkling lover. Drow had no reputation of kindness to uphold for strangers, much less strangers who intended chaos upon them.

"Haer'Dalis? Just lie to me. Tell me something nice."

"No, my wildflower. Not to you."

"Haer'Dalis…"

"_No_," he said, and felt her stiffen beside him. "What is it you want to hear, little one? That they are both hale and just _waiting_ for us? Or would you prefer to hear that he is dead, killed for his allegiance to surfacers, and that she is bleeding your father's blood all over Sendai's feet? Both are lies, my little one, and both may be true."

"I'm sorry. I didn't, I don't…"

He turned then, and remembered how young she was, how hurt she was behind her quick smiles and her prodding jokes and her spells. "Ah, forgive me, little one. I care little enough for prisons. I am sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." She leaned into him, her head against his shoulder. She was shaking, and he could feel it. "I'm just worried."

She wanted reassurance, he knew, reassurance and a smile, and perhaps a story or two. Was it, he wondered, a cruel and false hope to give her that? To cheer her a little, even if they were almost certainly to die?

"Let me sing to you," he said, and wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders. "You must have a favourite, yes?"

"A favourite?"

"Song. And it _must_ be one of mine, my little one. I will not lower myself to the ignominious act of caroling some other bard's song, not here, when I wait on the edge of death."

She laughed, a little strained. "The love song about the girl in the forest."

"_That_ is your favourite?"

"That's the only one I can think of right now. And I want to hear about the forest. And the outside."

He smiled, and leaned his head against hers, and very softly, he started to sing.

_The walls of the planar prison rippled, and he looked away from them, disinterested. The human girl and her friends had hurtled through the portal after them, he was certain. He had seen them, stumbling against each other, the girl's face all ashen as the pull of the conduit had captured her. _

Why_, he wondered, and he found himself intrigued. _What compelled such blind courage?

_"Haer'Dalis." Miss Raelis' hand found his chin, turned his head. "You are lost in your thoughts, my sparrow."_

_ "Forgive me." _

_ She smiled, brilliantly. Her fingers wandered down his throat, caught in his shirt laces. For a long, idle moment, he let himself revel in the feel of it, her skin almost on his, and her breathing close to his ear. _

_ Had she known, he wondered. Had she guessed that it was the beginning of the end, the day she sent him to steal the gem? That very afternoon she had pulled him behind the stage and into the small room just past the far door, and her mouth on his had been hot and wanting. He matched her lust, as he always did, and he had taken her roughly while she clawed at his shoulders. Against the door, with her thighs around his waist and the beautiful scarlet panels of her dress hitched up. _

_ Life turns, he thought, and he with it, at the whims of the world. Miss Raelis' passions could not burn for him for long, and neither could his for her, and they had both known it, surely they had both known it. Known it since that first night in Sigil, when he had been drunk on spiced wine and the eager warmth of her mouth. _

_ She had teased him, he remembered, and smiled. Teased him with every shining smile and brush of her hand on his arm, on his elbow, on his knee, against his cheek. _

"Haer'Dalis?"

"Yes, little one?"

"Thank you. You have a lovely voice."

He smiled, and said nothing, and listened as the girl's breathing slowed. She would not sleep properly, he guessed, but at least she was relaxed, if only a little. He wondered if he should let her lie down, but she burrowed against his shoulder, so he kept his arm around her.

_Kera to Sendai_, he thought. _Solaufein to the drow lady's chambers. _

Imoen drifting beside him, her eyes closed, and the other three elsewhere.

Locks to be broken, and guards to be found, and all before the worst happened to his raven.

He allowed himself a slight smile, and silently concluded that, following opening the locks on their cell and the door beyond, he needed his swords. They were his, forged for him, and he was not about to let Bhaal-worshipping darklings keep them as casual trophies.

_"Haer'Dalis." She turned, her breath pluming around her, and the bright points of the jewels in her hair like the stars he never saw in Sigil. "Whatever are you doing out here, my sparrow?"_

_ "Your eyes have been upon me all evening, Miss Raelis," he said, and closed the distance between them. "And I find myself rather convincingly captivated."_

_ "Do you?" She laughed, and it chimed into the still air. "So easily? From simple touches and flattery? And to admit such a thing, so quickly?"_

_ "Oh?" He grinned, and laid both hands either side of her shoulders. He watched the uneven motion of her breathing and he knew that he had her. "I could leave you to the night and your solitude, Miss Raelis, if you wish. But we have travelled and played together some while now, and I find myself wondering what it would be like to know you a little better." _

_ "A little? Is that all my sparrow requires?"_

_ "A little, a lot, neither or both. Whatever it is that I can take from you this night that you will willingly give to me." _

_ She laughed, and when she kissed him, his blood ran hot and he pushed her against the wall. She met him and matched him, as he guessed she would, and her hands on his clothes were efficient and silken all at once. He spun her away from the wall, and when she was shaking beneath him, he buried himself in her, and lost himself to the pleasure and the cold brush of the night air around him. _

_ Afterwards, he walked with her back to her rooms, and he stayed until the dawn lightened the sky. _

_ "You are quite beautiful," Miss Raelis murmured against his bare shoulder. She traced his markings slowly, thoughtfully. "Whyever did we wait so long?"_

_ He stretched, and sighed. "The delightful frisson of uncertain, impatient desire?"_

_ She laughed. "And because pleasure is fleeting?"_

_ "Fleeting?" He rolled himself on top of her, and her thighs parted around his hips. "My beauty, I have spent myself inside you at least three times this night already. Is that truly fleeting?"_

He looked at the bars, and at the lock, and he smiled. "My wildflower?"

Imoen murmured something, then straightened up. "Sorry. Dozing. What is it?"

"Do not think too much upon it," he said, and gave her a deliberately wicked smile. "But…a thought occurs."

* * *

Very carefully, Solaufein tested the weight of the shackles around his wrists. He watched as the priestess lit the last of the incense, and the smoke plumed up and rolled across her hands. She was beautiful, and the long fall of her white hair was braided on both sides, silver thread twining through the tresses.

"So." She turned, and the pale light fell across the slant of her cheekbones. "Ust Natha. So near the surface, your city. So near the elves, yes?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Tell me, then. How is it that you came to be with surfacers?"

"Luck."

"Ill or good?"

"Both," he said, and smiled.

"Tell me," she said again.

"I was ordered up to the surface."

"You're a scout?"

"I commanded scouts," he said, and saw her mouth curl up on both sides. "We were sent up to the surface, up to the elves."

"I do not wish to hear about elves, outcast. I wish to hear about surfacers. The surfacers who seem to travel so easily with you."

"They came through Ust Natha, on their way to the surface," he said. "I had little enough to do with them until they left the city and found the elves."

"And so it was then that they went into Suldenessellar?"

He _almost_ let the surprise show. But no, he needed to keep silent, and school himself patient, and learn what else this beautiful priestess knew. "Yes."

"And you went with them, did you, outcast? How is it that one of our kin would be granted safe passage in an elven city?"

"The surfacers aided the elves. They triumphed over an old enemy of theirs, and we were favoured."

"Even _you_," she said. "But then, I suppose a Bhaalspawn can ask even a favour of the Queen of Suldenessellar. Why did you stay with them?"

"I did not know the surface, mistress. They were amenable to my presence in the group. I can scout, and fight, and I know how to kill cleanly, and well."

"Do they pay you?"

"Yes, mistress," he lied.

"And you truly think it wise, to travel with surfacers? To travel with a Bhaalspawn?"

"There was no other option, mistress. On the surface, I was blind, and they were in need of another blade."

She paused in front of him, her eyes inches from his, and he knew she was searching his face. Searching for the single shifting glance or fluttering pulse or bead of sweat that would betray him. "You speak very prettily, male. Tell me how you became an outcast to your own city."

"Is it so unusual, mistress, a male fallen into disfavour?"

"No, outcast, but that was not my question."

_Through poor choices and the meddling of a Matron Mother and the appearance of a surfacer girl clad in a dragon's illusion_. He remembered how she had looked at him, that day beneath the city, when she had told him her surfacer's name, and he had repeated it and found that he rather liked the sound of it on his tongue.

_All curiosity and slight wariness and something very like hope, in red drow eyes that were not her own. _

"I failed my master at the arena and I lost two scout groups on the surface, to the elves. I had been a favourite of one of my Matron Mother's daughters, and she could not abide my failures."

"Your punishment?"

"I was to be killed." He met her gaze again, and added, "I fled the city, and near the surface, the surfacers found me."

Diaytha laughed. "Yes, very prettily indeed, outcast. Your words are simple and your eyes are full of such hatred. Would you care for wine?"

"Will you drink it as well, mistress, or do you assume me to be gullible as well as disgraced?"

She paused at the table, and he watched as she poured wine from a slender pitcher. He recognized the scent of it, deep and heady. Amethysts winked at the rim of the cup, and when she drank, her eyes never left his.

He flexed his wrists, and his shackles clanked. "How can I drink, mistress, bound as a prisoner?"

Diaytha smiled. She lifted the cup to his mouth, and the rich, dark wine flooded across his tongue. Her thumb brushed across his lips, and he made himself stay still.

"Now, outcast." She filled the cup again, and said, "Tell me about the Bhaalspawn."

* * *

Jaheira looked up at the arching black stone above and tried to will away the prickle between her shoulders, the urge to wrap her hands around the bars. The air against her face was too still, too musty, and every breath between her lips reminded her of how deep underground they must be.

"Jaheira," Valygar said, quietly.

"I'm alright."

The ranger said nothing else, as she guessed, and on her other side, Minsc stared at the bars through puzzled dark eyes.

_Kera_, she thought, and ached. She had _lost_ her, lost them _both_, and now she could do little except stare at the dark stone above and seethe.

She remembered Athkatla, and the bright bustle of the market stalls and the taverns and the spices, thick on the air. She remembered how the Cowled Wizards had taken Imoen, and taken Khalid's murderer, and she had been able to do nothing but watch.

_"Kera, no." She grabbed at the girl's arm, wrenched her back. "Don't."_

_ "He's getting away," the girl snapped. "They're _taking_ him."_

_ "They're taking Imoen as well," she said, and when Kera tried to lunge again, she hauled her away. "_Don't_. Don't be stupid. Don't."_

_ The girl sagged against her finally, and later, at the inn, Jaheira ordered hot water and food. She was tired, and every step against the rough floorboards caught and scraped. Her eyes burned, but whenever she closed them, she saw Khalid again, and she could not let herself, not yet. She peeled Kera's clothes away, and discovered scars and welts and long, bleeding gashes. She was thin, too thin, and her brown hair hung in thick, lank handfuls over the sharp bones of her shoulders. _

_ "Kera. Child, come here. We need to get you clean."_

_ She nodded, and silently, she let Jaheira help her into the bath. She washed the girl's hair until the brown tresses fanned out in the water. Very gently, she cleaned the worst of the cuts, and a murmured healing spell sank blue and soft into the girl's skin. _

_ "Jaheira?"_

_ "Yes, child?"_

_ "How bad is it?"_

_ She paused, and ran the washcloth along the side of the girl's arm. "You're not bleeding anymore, but you are very badly scarred, child. I am sorry." _

_ "Thank you," Kera said, and her eyelids flickered. "Water's getting cold."_

_ "Come on." She helped the girl over the side again and wrapped her small frame in towels. She patted her dry, and led her across to the hearth. "Sit, and I'll bring you some food."_

_ "I'm not hungry." _

_ "You need to eat."_

_ The girl shook her head, but when Jaheira passed her bread and cold meat, she ate slowly. The sweet pastry made her shudder when she tried to keep it down, so Jaheira shook her head, and said, "You don't need to get through it all."_

_ She made the girl drink the cooling tea, and afterwards, she walked her across the room to the bed. She pulled the blankets up over her, and murmured, "Try to sleep."_

_ "I can't."_

_ "You can try."_

_ "Where will you be?" _

_ "I need to see the others," she said, and straightened up. "I will be back soon."_

_ The girl reached for her, her fingers closing hard around Jaheira's wrist. "Soon?" _

_ "Soon," she said, and pried herself away. "Try to sleep, Kera." _

_ She found Minsc and Yoshimo downstairs, both of them worn out and exhausted, and even the thief's glittering black eyes were heavy and tired._

"_She's in bed," she said, briskly. "I'm going outside. I'll see you both tomorrow." _

_Outside, the night was full of the sea breeze. She walked, barely noticing where, her eyes on her boots and her thoughts on Khalid. She must have crossed the marketplace, still crowded, because she heard merchants shouting prices and half-saw the dazzle of the torches. She walked until the silence was all around her, and her hands caught against the rough edge of a stone wall. She looked down and saw the sea below, dark and surging. She needed to be back at the inn, she knew. She needed to be checking on Kera, to see if she slept, and to be there when she woke. _

_She found steps, and she followed them down until she could hear nothing but the sighing of the water against the stone walls. The spray wet her hair and her cheeks and her eyelids. She breathed in, and she found that she could not, not properly. She tried again, and when her vision blurred and ran hot, she realised that she was crying. _

_She screamed out Khalid's name, and her mouth was full of the salt spray and her own tears. She sobbed herself hoarse, and when her knees gave way, she pressed her hands against the rough stone. She tried to find the right words for a prayer, any prayer, but she had already called Silvanus' blessing, and when she searched for the words again, all she saw was Khalid. _

_She let herself linger a heartbeat longer. Her throat was painfully thick, and her eyelids felt cast in lead. She made her way back to the tavern, quickly and almost silently. In the small room, she heard Kera's breathing, even in sleep. She pulled her boots off, and left her leathers draped over the chair. Silently, clad in the loose grey shirt that still smelled of the sea, she slipped beneath the blankets. _

_The girl's small frame was shaking slightly, so Jaheira slowly wound an arm around her waist. "I'm here," she murmured. "Sleep, child. I'm here." _

_ The girl's breathing hitched again, and Jaheira did not move. She gathered the girl closer, and held on to her until the pale dawn lightened the window and banished the night. _

"Jaheira," Valygar said, and touched her arm. "Hear that?"

She blinked, and listened. Footsteps, she noticed, unhurried and light. The door on the far side opened, and the drow male who stepped through was short and slim, his hair loose about the narrow planes of his face. He did not look at them, did not even raise his head. The drow placed a tray on the floor, just within arm's-length of the bars, and turned away. The door slammed after him, and Valygar muttered, "Poison?"

"Wine," Jaheira said, wryly. "Wine and water and food. Can you reach it?"

The ranger leaned out until his fingertips brushed the edge of the tray. "Yes."

"Good." She straightened up, and rolled her shoulders. "He's going to have to return at some point. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

He smiled, a tiny movement at the corners of his mouth. "I think I am."

* * *

As Solaufein watched, the priestess crossed the chamber again. Her hands flitted up to the silver wound through her hair, and her fingers slid along the delicate chain. "What else?"

"Little, mistress. Only that she is human, and young, and brash, and does not seem to realize entirely how mortal she and all her kind are."

"And yet she defeated her brother Sarevok. Others have fallen beneath her sword, yes? Other Bhaalspawn?"

"Yes."

"What is it, then? What is it in her blood that keeps her safe?"

"I do not know." His shoulders ached, and the stiff tension in his arms was distracting, spoiling his thoughts. Her eyes were on him again, merciless and unwavering, and he knew she was toying with him. "I am not in her confidences, mistress. I know little of her plans other than that she wishes to live, even if that means the slaughter of her siblings."

"Really?" She closed the distance between them again. Her fingertips brushed across his chin. "Not at all? Her scent is all over you, outcast. She looked for you when Captain Egeissag took her. Why might that be?"

"I do not know, mistress. Perhaps you can give me some suggestion?"

"Perhaps." She smiled. "You have travelled with surfacers for some time, outcast. Perhaps it is simply that you are learning their ways. And to travel the desert, with its heat…well, I do not envy you, outcast."

She had him trapped, he knew, whether he agreed or disagreed or spun her some tale of taking quick meaningless pleasures or spending too much uncivilized time among surfacers.

"However, you tell me nothing useful." She stepped around him, and she touched his arm, just above the cold band of the shackles. "Tell me something useful, and I will consider unlocking these."

"She killed Yaga-Shura," he said. "She killed him through deceit and the work of her own sword. Every time she kills, her power grows, and she is beginning to revel in it."

"Oh?" Diaytha's smile widened. "Are you suggesting that she might hold some challenge for Sendai?"

"No, mistress. I would not presume such a thing."

"Of course you would, outcast. You and I both know the strength of a well-placed doubt. You must forgive me, though, since my mistress has little to fear from your surfacer Bhaalspawn. How did she kill him?"

"With her sword through his throat. She watched him die."

"Is this so strange, for a Bhaalspawn?"

"For her, yes. She is changing."

The priestess turned, and a small key flickered between her slender fingers. "Sendai will have her blood, outcast, and whatever gifts your surfacer may have gained will become hers."

"Of that I have no doubt, mistress." The words rolled heavy and painful and honest off his tongue, and he wondered again where Kera might be, whether she already fought Sendai, or whether she still breathed at all.

"What is it that troubles you, outcast?" the priestess asked, teasingly. "Why such fear in such beautiful eyes?"

"I am home and yet not home," he said. "You are my kin and you are not. There is much time that lies between my exile and today, and I find myself both understanding this and falling incapable of understanding this. Forgive me."

"It is not Lolth who holds sway here, outcast, and your surfacer female should have told you of our god's power, however much she might have wanted to run from it. There are no prayers here sent to the Spider Queen. She cannot hear you, not in this place."

Solaufein let himself smile, and he remembered that night, the night on the surface when he had fled from the elves.

_He ran, the branches and the ferns whipping at his face. Every breath dragged the cool night air between his lips. He could hear the elves behind him, their feet quiet against the soil and the rocks. They were moving fast and well, and he needed to hide, needed to find some shadow to sink into. He was bleeding, and he could feel it, hot and damp and soaking through the terrible gash in his armour, just above his hip. He ducked under a low sweep of leaves, and past another high gnarled tree. The shadows were all strange, twisting and moving when the wind ruffled the branches. He stumbled over something, and the jarring motion made him gasp. He clamped a hand over the wound in his side and kept going. _

_ They would find him, he thought, and they would not grant him a quick death, not with the way their companions had died. _

_ But they did not, not even when he tripped again, and the impact drove a startled whine from him. He was bleeding too much, he knew, spattering his armour and the leaves and the ground behind him as he ran. He found the curve of an overhang, and desperately, he rolled beneath it and waited. He waited silently and breathlessly, and when they did not find him, he checked the wound in his side. He had nothing useful with him, neither healing potions nor bandages, and the pain was a steady, thrumming ache. Awkwardly, he twisted out of his armour and hissed when he pulled his tunic away from the wound. He sliced it apart, and wrapped it around his waist, clumsily knotting it in place. _

_ The forest was still when he dared to crawl out from the under the overhang. Each step jolted the wound, but he did not want to sit and wait for the elves, not when he had little idea where he was. _

_ His heel caught and slid, and he steadied himself. He looked up and between the arching branches, and when he saw the white glow of the moon, he flinched. Too much light, and it hurt his eyes and sparked off his sword and swam in his hair. But nothing broke the quietness, and when he gathered the courage to move between the trees again, nothing followed him. He found a pool between high grey rocks, and the moonlight was there as well, trapped in the water. He cleaned the ugly gash in his side, and gritted his teeth when his blood ran again, ribboning his fingers. The sweat at his temples was hot, and he recognized the telltale burn just beneath his skin, and he knew he needed healing, and quickly._

_ The night faded, and the dawn brought with it the blinding sunlight. He huddled beneath the overhang and waited for the darkness, and kept his eyes closed. He tried to roll over, and the pain made him groan. His thoughts were floating, unmoored, and when he tried to count the days he had been on the surface, he failed. _

Phaere_, he thought. Phaere was waiting for him. She was waiting for him at the temple, and then she would take him to her chambers and they would lose themselves in each other again. _

_ When the night came again, and he could see properly, he made his way back to the pool. He drank the water until his stomach clenched, and when he tried to drip some of it against the wound in his side, he discovered crusted blood and too much heat. He touched the water, and watched as the moonlight rippled around his hand. _

_ "Please," he said aloud. "I don't want to die. Please."_

_ He rested eventually, uncaring enough that the weariness took him where he was, sprawled beside the pool, one hand cupped in the water. Through the haze in his head he heard footsteps, and someone's voice, and speaking his own language. _

_ "Commander Solaufein?"_

_ Hands caught his shoulders and turned him, and he writhed when the pain burst through him. He snarled and tried to jerk away, but they held him down. _

_ "Is he alive?"_

_ "He's badly wounded."_

_"He's bleeding all over himself."  
_

_ There were other words, and he did not hear them properly. Someone grabbed his chin and shoved the neck of a bottle into his mouth. His teeth clicked against it, and when the potion flooded his throat, he almost choked on it. Someone else clamped hands over his mouth and nose until he swallowed. _

_ "Have him drink another." _

_ "He's fevered."_

_ "Then _make_ him drink another. I can't have him dying on us before we get him back. And hurry. The night's waning." _

_ Another bottle replaced the first, and he drank until they let him breathe again. Someone hauled him to his feet, and his head spun. He tried to keep his eyes open, tried to look into the face of the drow male propping him up. _

_ "Commander Solaufein." Fingers dug into his jaw. "Stay awake. Do you hear me? We're not close, and we need to hurry. Stay awake." _

"Oh, no, mistress," Solaufein said. "Lolth holds no fear for me."

"Indeed? You chose your path when you took to the surface, outcast. Even so, perhaps some use might be found for you."

Diaytha stepped behind him again, and the skin between his shoulders tightened. He heard the small sound of the key in the lock, and then the weight of the shackles dropped away. She ran her fingers down the inside of his wrist. "Solaufein of Ust Natha. What other words can you spin for me?"


	32. Prey

_As always, a very big thank you goes to everyone who's following this story. Just a reminder of the rating, and of course, reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Two – Prey**_

Around her wrists, the shackles were heavy and cold, and she could feel the pull of them all along her arms. She looked at the high doors again, and then back to the drow beside her. He had stayed almost wordless while he had escorted her through the twisting corridors and the dark chambers of the temple, and she had heard his voice only when he prodded her faster, or growled at her to stop dragging her feet. Now, his gaze was pinned on the doors, and he was coiled and wary.

How long, Kera wondered, had they stood here? Her heartbeat was a fierce roar in her ears, and her thoughts twisted helplessly. "Is it normal, Captain? To be kept waiting this long?"

"Be silent, surfacer."

She heard it again, the slight hitch in his words. "I was under the impression that Sendai wanted to see me, not have me stand around waiting for her."

"Be _silent_."

"Or is it that she prefers not to face me, and prefers to hide?"

"I _said_," the drow snarled, and stopped. "My mistress will see you when she desires."

She waited, and the silence clung to her. Her thoughts wandered to Solaufein, and fiercely, she tried to push them aside. She could do little while her wrists were locked behind her back. He was somewhere else, with the drow female who had ordered them taken, and she could not let herself think about that, not now, not yet.

The doors opened, and the four drow females who pushed them wide kept their heads bowed. They wore robes, silken and dark and whispering against the polished floor. Beside her, the drow captain's stance tightened. "Come on."

He steered her over the threshold, and when he gripped her arm, she felt him shaking slightly. _What_, she wondered, _had him so unsettled? _

"Faster." He guided her up smooth-edged stairs, and when she slowed her pace again, he growled something in his own language and shoved her onwards. "_Now_, surfacer."

The air was different up here, she noticed, heavy with incense and still. Flames danced above hanging oil lamps, and the walls were carved with odd, twisting shapes. Figures, she realised, figures twirling and reaching for each other, arms outstretched and heads flung back.

"Where is your mistress?"

Her voice jarred the silence, and the drow shook his head. He pushed her through another archway, and she saw closed doors, flanked on both sides by drow females.

"The Bhaalspawn," the drow captain said. "Mistress Sendai wishes to see her."

The taller of the females opened the door, and stepped away noiselessly. The captain's fingers clenched around her arm again, and he jostled her inside. The silence rolled over her, and she thought of the temple in the forest, and how the stones there had been full of the echoes of Bhaal's followers.

"Sister. Welcome."

She looked up and across the wide, arched chamber, to where a drow sat curled in a high-backed chair. The drow smiled, and Kera felt something twisting deep inside her and she _knew_. This drow had the same blood, their father's blood, hot beneath her ebony skin, and she wondered how it would smell, freed.

"Captain Egeissag. Wait outside."

He bowed his head and nodded, and his heels scraped against the floor as he backed away.

"You will not greet me, sister?"

She swallowed, and her mouth was dry. _This drow_, she thought. _This drow_ was the reason they were here, deep beneath the earth, and this drow was the reason she did not know where Solaufein was, or Imoen, or Jaheira, or any of them.

"Should I?" she managed. "You have taken my friends. You have had me shackled like some common trespasser."

"And are you not?" Sendai tipped her head to one side. White braids coiled around her head, and the bright tips of jeweled pins glinted at her temples. "You come here silently and in deception, seeking my death, do you not?"

"I came here because your drow threatened merchants and traders. Because your drow and their games have left the people of Amkethran afraid."

"You came here for the people of Amkethran?" Sendai laughed, and the sound of it was beautiful. "Oh, sister. You are not so foolish as to think I would be swayed by such a lie? You are here for the same reason that Yaga-Shura is dead. You are here because I _take_ what our father gives us as gifts, and you do not."

"Yaga-Shura," Kera said. "You knew him?"

"He is dead, sister, and that surfacer city along with him, yes? What does it matter, now?"

"Were you his ally?"

"I am _no one's_ ally." Sendai's smiled turned edged, and she added, "You claim an outcast amid your allies, do you not?"

"Where is he?"

"With my priestess, Diaytha. If he is sensible, he may find her hospitality not entirely a trial. Why does his fate trouble you, sister?"

"He is a friend. They're all my friends." Her fingers clenched, slick with sweat. _Hospitality_, she thought, and her stomach knotted. She needed her attention on Sendai, on the way the drow's pale eyes narrowed slightly, on the easy, lithe way she sprawled in the chair. "You're after me. Let them go."

"And how is it that a surfacer comes to count a drow among her friends?"

"That is my business."

"Oh?" Sendai leaned her chin on one folded hand. "Sister, I know what happened at Suldenessellar. I know that before Suldenessellar, you killed a brother of ours beneath Baldur's Gate. Tell me, what did it feel like?"

_Heat and desperation and the sudden, hot flood of Sarevok's blood around her sword. _

"Did you feel the power in it, or were you too witless?"

"He died," Kera grated. "That's all there is to it."

"Oh, but it isn't, sister. Not at all. I know what it feels like, when every beat of a brother's heart or a sister's heart is in the shedding of their blood. Have you surrendered to it yet, sister? Have you drunk down their lives as they lose them?"

"_No_," she said. She licked at dry lips and tasted salt. "No, I…no."

"Curious." Sendai straightened, and her boots tapped idly against the floor. "How is it you have survived so long, sister? You deny our father, deny his powers, and yet you are still alive. Are you skilled or lucky, I wonder?"

"Both."

She laughed again. "Tell me about your outcast."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Oh? You looked at him, I am told, before we captured you."

She remembered it, Solaufein pressed against the wall, and the point of a sword nestled beneath his chin. "Is it so strange, to look for a friend? Or is it something that you drow consider beneath yourselves?"

"You're fascinating, my sister."

Sendai slid off the chair. She was tall for her kind, Kera noticed, and clad in black armour, inlaid with swirling red. Her face was striking and shrewd, and the pale gleam of her eyes was incisive. She wore two swords across her shoulders, and Kera wondered how many daggers her armour might hide.

"Sister." Sendai paused before her, her head tilted. "You claim to hate us, and yet you give one of us sanctuary at your side. You make no sense, sister."

"He's not one of you," Kera snapped, and almost immediately regretted it. "I meant…he does not follow Bhaal. He's from Ust Natha."

"Not one of us? Oh, sister. Your lies tumble against each other, and most poorly." Sendai leaned closer. She exhaled slowly, and her breath touched Kera's throat. "You do not smell entirely of your own kind, sister. I could speculate, but I must admit I do not think your lies could amuse me."

"What do you want from me, then?"

"Your death, sister." Sendai traced the side of her face, and her fingers skimmed over the old scar that dipped towards her collarbone. "And your life, with it. Tell me, why have you run from your gifts? Why have you hidden yourself?"

"I have not."

"Oh, you have. For so long now, until these events of ours have forced you out into the open. How many of our brothers and sisters have you killed now?"

"Enough."

"It is never enough," Sendai said, and smiled. "There are always more, and when the time comes that they _are_ all dead, then our father's final gift awaits us."

"You want him back, do you? You think he'll be grateful?"

"Why should this trouble you, sister? You'll be dead."

The drow was close, too close, and Kera could smell her, all leather and steel and something else, something smoky. She opened her mouth to retort, but Sendai caught her chin between agile, strong fingers, and murmured, "And after you, your friends, and your outcast, and that other human surfacer who you think to call sister."

Kera jerked away. "What?"

"You thought to hide her, yes? You thought to keep her safe, and hide her."

"You won't be touching her," Kera said, fiercely. "Her or any of them."

"Our father's blood does not sing in her, sister. It does not make her one of his, not in the way _we_ are." Sendai's fingers threaded across the hollow of her throat, tightened against her collar. "You feel it in me, don't you? Just as I feel it in you."

Kera closed her eyes. Behind her ribs, her heartbeat quickened, and she felt the heat of the drow's fingers against her throat. "Get your hands off me."

"Oh, sister." Sendai's laugh was rich and pealing and filled her ears. "You are not worthy of demands."

* * *

Solaufein lifted the cup to his mouth again, and watched over the rim as the priestess paused beside the chair. Her hand drifted across his sword hilt, and she asked, "Made for you, outcast?"

"Yes, mistress. A long time ago."

"Elegant."

Her fingers played across the pommel, and he knew he could not cross the chamber fast enough. Even _if_ he wrested his sword from her, she was a priestess, and commanded spells. And even then, a single shouted command would bring her guards running. _No_, he thought. He needed to wait, as long as he dared, and he needed her to choose the footing for her own defeat.

"How long has it been, outcast?"

"Mistress?"

"Do not pretend ignorance, male. You are striking, and should you stay with us, you will need allies. How long has it been for you?"

_The early evening air, heavy with heat and Kera's scent. She writhed beneath him, and when he lowered his face to her neck, her breath came in shuddering gasps against him. Her hips fit delightfully against his, and when he kissed her, she clung to him. _

"Some while, mistress."

Diaytha smiled. She reached out and plucked the cup from his hand. Her other hand closed over the hilt of the dagger at her waist. "Why do you persist with these lies, outcast?"

"You asked me to spin words for you, mistress. What is it now that you want?"

"Your attentions, perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

She laid the cup on the table. "Sit on the bed."

He complied, slowly, and something heavy and uncomfortable settled in his belly. "Mistress, there would be other ways to prove myself."

"Prove yourself? Outcast, why speak of proving yourself? I have not decided whether you will live or whether you will die. Your enthusiasm may change that. Undress."

"And if I choose otherwise?"

"There is no choice, outcast." She unsheathed the dagger. "Unless that choice is for your own death. Sendai has no need for defiance, and much need for allies who might prove useful."

How many times, he wondered. How many times had he done _this very thing_, in order to keep breathing, to keep living? Closed off his thoughts and let his body do what would be expected? He unbuckled his belt, let it drop. His boots followed, then his tunic and his shirt, and once he set to work on the laces at the waistband of his leggings, he found that he could not look quite at the priestess.

"Stand up."

He did, and felt the weight of her gaze on his skin.

"You are scarred, outcast. Punishment?"

"Some of them."

"What else?"

"The arena."

She shed her garments easily, and the lamplight fell over the slopes and curves of her slim frame. She kept the dagger, as he had suspected she would, and her hands on him were not gentle.

"Look at me, outcast." She wound a sheaf of his hair around her hand and guided his head up. "If you remain here, you will be obedient."

"Yes, mistress."

"Good."

She touched him again, explored the scars on his chest and his back, and when he did not respond quickly, the pressure of her fingers turned hard and insistent. The point of the dagger danced across his shoulders, dipped beneath his collarbone. He brought her to her first climax with his hands and his mouth. When she pushed him onto his back, he let her. When she raked her nails along his chest, he hissed and twisted until she smiled. She rested the point of the dagger against his thigh, and told him, "Hands at your sides, outcast."

"Yes, mistress."

Diaytha sank onto him, and murmured, "_Look_ at me. I want to see your eyes."

He obeyed. She cupped his chin, and the musky, warm scent of her skin filled his mouth. She was moving above him, every rocking motion jolting him against the bed. He saw how the sweat tracked thin ribbons at her temples and past the swell of her hips.

"Much better," Diaytha said, and her voice hitched. "_Much_ better. You _are_ their pet, aren't you? Her pet?"

Solaufein did not trust himself to respond properly, so he matched her rhythm. The dig of the knife just above his hip made him groan. His release swept through him, sharp and shuddering, and he let his back arch with it. She twisted above him, and when her head fell back, her eyes half-closing, he moved. He caught her wrist and tugged, and the momentum rolled them both over.

"Oh?" Diaytha smiled up at him. "What is it that you're planning, outcast?"

The point of the knife was still against him, and when he leaned into her, he felt the wet trickle of blood. "Drop it."

"No."

"Drop it, and this will happen cleanly."

"This?" She grinned. "Male, what do you _think_ is going to happen here? You're alone, I have guards, and I have the strength that Sendai showed me and gave me."

She thrashed under him, and he lunged for the dagger. The point caught against his hipbone and dragged, and the pain seemed far away. He snapped the flat of his hand against her wrist. Her fingers juddered open. He heard the murmured words of a spell, and he reached madly for the hilt. Her spell flared, white and dazzling. Solaufein closed his eyes and cried out when the next one bit into his shoulder. The third flung him onto his back and he kicked out blindly. He heard the priestess gasp, and the solid thump of the knife as it hit the floor. Snake-fast, she dived after it. He wrapped both arms around her waist and hauled her back onto the bed. She was slim and strong and twisting against him. He was losing time, he knew, and he wondered already how much her guards had heard.

He flipped them both over again, so that his back was against the sheets. He drove one knee against the inside of her thigh, and when she gasped, he wrapped an arm around her neck.

"Diaytha," he murmured, into her ear.

Her eyes rolled, widening as he clamped his other hand over her mouth and nose. He should have chosen something else, he knew, should have broken her neck the moment she trembled above him. _Should have gotten the knife,_ he thought angrily. _Should have finished her quickly and quietly. _

She thrashed against him again, and he held on. His palm was slippery against her face. Desperately, he threw his weight against her and pinned her. She relaxed beneath him, but he could still feel the faint, uneven tempo of her heart. Solaufein buried one hand in her hair and caught her chin with the other, and then he jerked her head sideways at the angle he had been taught.

He lay there for too long, aware of the priestess beneath him, her body cooling and slick. He checked her throat and her wrists for her pulse, and then her lips for her breath. He pushed himself off the bed and found that he was shaking. She was dead, he told himself, and _that_ was all that was important, surely. She was dead, and his sword was against the chair. She was dead, and how she had died was of little consequence.

_Kera_, he thought, and swallowed. Survival mattered, and he needed to be out of the priestess' chambers.

He dressed quickly, and the tug of his leathers over the gash at his hip made him wince. A small hurt, he knew, like the bite of the cut beneath his collarbone, or the other, shallow ones along his shoulders. Even so, they were a distraction, and his mind lingered on the priestess, and the cold touch of the blade, and the way he had obeyed.

_Kera_, he thought again, and tried to banish the incessant, needling fear.

Sword drawn, he crossed the chamber, and listened. He needed patience, the cold kind of patience that he had learned in the arena, and after, at the temple.

He eased the door open and saw how the lamplight fell across the nearest guard's shoulder, sparked off the pommel of his sword. He waited a heartbeat longer, gauging the distance, and then he spun at them. The first died silently, crumpling when Solaufein's sword sheared through the back of his neck. He met the second's blade, and his hilt tangled against the other male's. He wrenched clear, and dived beneath the sweep of the sword. He let himself crash shoulder-first against the male, and when he staggered, Solaufein drove his sword between the male's ribs.

The others – both of them young, and both of them watching wild-eyed over their swords – fell quickly when he twisted between them. A single strike to the throat toppled the first, and the second followed, clawing at the awful wound in his belly.

He dragged the guards into the priestess' chambers, and when he slipped out into the corridor again, he waited and listened. Stillness answered, and he breathed in slowly. Stairs twisted up at the far end of the corridor, and he followed them. Overhead, the soft points of the oil lamps glowed, and Solaufein walked beneath them, and hoped that perhaps he might be seen as no more than another drow male in Sendai's outpost. He supposed his luck would not last, not in this place, but for now, the silence was his.

* * *

Haer'Dalis leaned against the bars and grinned when he heard the turn of the key in the lock. He nodded to Imoen, and was pleased when she smiled a little. Her eyes were still too wide, and her hands shook, but the tilt to her head was decisive. He had sung his throat dry keeping her fear dammed back, and some terse, impatient part of him had been glad of the distraction.

The door swung open, and the drow was halfway across the room, a tray in his hands, before he looked up. "Away from the bars."

Haer'Dalis did not move. "Forgive me. I mean no disrespect in the slightest, my friend."

"I'm not your friend."

"No." He blinked rapidly. "My wildflower, here. She is, well…"

The drow stopped. "What?"

"She wonders what might have happened to her friends."

"I do not know."

"Ah." Haer'Dalis sighed. He leaned his forehead against the cool metal and waited until the drow stepped forward again. "Your Mistress Sendai. What does she want with us, I wonder?"

"I don't know." The drow scowled. "Away from the bars, or you won't be eating today."

"Forgive me." Haer'Dalis turned slightly, and looked at Imoen.

As they had agreed, she did not waste the time on standing, or even straightening up. Her hands spread, and she whispered the words of her spell, and a tangle of white light lashed out.

The drow cried out, and when the second spell cannoned into him, he fell. Haer'Dalis reached through the bars, stretching until his shoulder twinged, and grasped the drow's arm. He yanked until he had the drow pinned against the bars. The drow thrashed, and another spell quieted him. Haer'Dalis found the drow's weapon belt, purloined his dagger and cut the drow's throat.

"Oh." Imoen pushed up to her feet. "That's…a lot of blood."

"Forgive me, little one. We could not afford our new friend screaming, or calling for help." He unstrapped the drow's sword, and rifled through the drow's leathers until he found the keys. "Perhaps you could discover which of these is the one we need, little one?"

"Oh. Yes." She fumbled with the keys, and he waited until she wrestled the lock open and swung the grill wide. "There."

"Now," he said, stepping over the drow. "You are no stranger to this, I know, my wildflower. But you must listen to me. I speak barely a word of drow, and besides, I would be utterly disappointed if any of _these_ drow would be fooled by my poor efforts."

Imoen smiled, shakily. "Then we hide, and move slowly."

"Yes. As we agreed." He accepted the bundle of keys from her, and squeezed her hand. He kept his tone light, and added, "You will stay behind me, little one, for I do not intend to tempt your sister to murderous rage if I have to tell her that something has happened to you."

Through the far door, the corridor opened up into a small armoury. Haer'Dalis worked his way through every weapon rack and every chest until he discovered his swords, both of them sheathed, and piled beneath Imoen's bow and quiver.

"_Thrown aside?_" He sighed, and slung his sword belt around his waist. "I had hoped drow might have shown a _little_ more interest and taste in such finely made weapons."

"But then you wouldn't have found them."

"Do not trouble me with logic, little one." He rubbed a hand across both pommels, and shrugged. "Now, are you ready?"

"No, I…" She shifted her feet. "It might be dark."

"Yes," he said gently, and knew that if it was, if they had the poor luck to blind themselves in some lightless corridor, they would be entirely at the mercy of Sendai's servants. "We must be careful, little one. There is little else we can hope to do."

"Yes, I know. Haer'Dalis?"

"Yes?"

"They didn't think to see if any of us are mages."

He grinned. "That speaks more for Mistress Sendai's lack of caring for both us and her own allies than it does for our new friend's tragic misfortune."

She nodded, and her fingers twisted against the small swirls carved down the sweep of her bow. "I'm ready."

"And I am pleased to hear it, little one." He paused beside the door, and touched her shoulder, and then her hair. "Stay strong, and we will find them. Stay behind me, and we will see them again."

She nodded again, and squared her shoulders. Something changed in her face, in her soft hazel eyes. "We'd better, tiefling."

Haer'Dalis grinned. "Oh, a challenge, is it? One I am most eager to accept, little one. Shall we go, then, and see how quickly I prevail?"

* * *

"What were you doing, sister?" Sendai brushed aside a loose handful of Kera's hair, and asked, "After you killed our brother. What were you doing? Why go to the elves?"

She wanted to lurch away from the drow. She wanted to kick and scream and throw herself at the drow until the smile melted from her beautiful face. "You know why, I'm assuming. So there's no real point in me saying anything."

"But I enjoy your voice, sister. Your words, and your lies. We are more alike than you dare to believe, I think."

"We are not."

"Oh? You mean to say that you do not have the dreams? You do not feel the pull of them, in your blood?" The drow smiled and let Kera's hair slip through her fingers. "You are no better than I, sister."

Kera said nothing, and she tried to will her thoughts elsewhere, away from the drow and her pale, searching eyes.

"No words?" Sendai arched an eyebrow, and murmured, "I think I will keep your outcast."

"You said he was going to die. Along with me and all my friends. Why change your threat now?"

"Perhaps he would be worth the time taken to turn him to our father's faith."

Kera swallowed back the sudden swell of anger, and grated, "He wouldn't."

"You know this, do you? Again, I wonder how." Sendai's smile widened. "Any male's thoughts can be turned, and most of them prove willing enough, whether beneath the lash or between the sheets."

Her mind went flat with rage, and she threw herself at the drow. Her shoulder hit Sendai's, and the drow twisted. She drove her knee against the drow's thigh, and when Sendai wavered, she shoved forward again. Another kick spoiled the drow's balance, and she toppled. Kera let herself fall full-force across the drow's chest, and when Sendai gasped, she spun, lodging one heel under the drow's chin.

"The shackles," she snapped. "Get the shackles off, and I'll let you up."

"Oh, sister. Do you think me so foolish?"

"The shackles," she said again. "Or shall we see how long I can hold you down like this?"

She leaned her whole weight onto the drow, pressing her heel into the soft skin of her throat until Sendai's eyes rolled. The drow's hands flew up, catching at Kera's shoulder and face and clawing. She held on, desperately, until the blood pounded in her ears and the drow drew in a long, shuddering breath.

"Sister," she said, and her voice was rough and strained. "You surprise me."

"The shackles, now."

Sendai gestured, and murmured something sibilant, and the manacles opened. Kera jerked her hands free, twisting her fingers against each other. She kept her foot firm beneath the drow's jaw, and when she leaned over her, she saw Sendai's smile.

"Oh, sister," the drow said. "What other surprises can you show me?"


	33. Sisters

_The usual disclaimer still applies; I own little aside from a handful of original characters. As always, a huge thank-you to everyone who's following this story, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Three – Sisters**_

Jaheira clenched her fingers and made herself wait while Valygar hauled the dead drow against the bars. A single spell had toppled him, a tangle of crackling branches that had filled the chamber with the scent of clean air and fresh wood. She breathed in, steadying herself, and wanted to be outside, above the ground, anywhere the shadows were empty and safe. Minsc clasped her shoulder and squeezed hard. "Soon," he said, and smiled.

She almost snarled at him, almost slapped his hand away. "Yes," she answered, eventually. "We'll find them."

But she had _lost_ them, and she could not suppress the cold, prodding worry. She remembered Spellhold, and how she had woken to chill stone and the sinking certainty that Kera was no longer there.

_"Jaheira. You're awake."_

_ She fumbled upright, leaned heavily against Valygar's arm. "Kera?"_

_ He shrugged. The corners of his mouth were lined with shadow, and the dark eyes above were hooded. "I don't know. She's not with us."_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "She is not here," Haer'Dalis said, and the lilt of his voice was rough and subdued. "Forgive us, but we did not wish to wake you."_

_ "Not here," she murmured, and wondered what it meant, wondered what Irenicus was doing, to her and to Imoen. "He's got them, then. Both of them." _

_ They did not try to reassure her otherwise, and she was glad of it. Minsc still slept, his head pillowed on one elbow, and she listened to the soft, measured sound of his breathing. She stared down at the lines in the stone between her feet and tried to forget how Imoen had looked, how frail she had been beneath the loose tunic, how filthy her bare feet had been. _

_ A moment, maybe two, and then the man in the robes had spoken again, and she had known that he was Irenicus. _

_ "Jaheira," Valygar said, chasing the silence away. "If they're dead, then…"_

_ "They're not."_

_ "I'm saying _if_, that is all. We're still not sure what Irenicus wants from either of them. It's a possibility, and we need to be able to get ourselves out of here regardless."_

_ "We will," she said, fiercely. "I'll make certain of it."_

The creak of the door opening jarred her from her thoughts, and she followed Valygar across the chamber. He kept the keys lifted from the dead drow, and when he levered open the far door, she smelled dust and stone and the dampness that reminded her again of Ust Natha.

"You're ready?"

Jaheira nodded, and looked into the strong, dusky planes of Valygar's face. "Valygar?"

"Yes?"

She opened her mouth, and her words died on her tongue. Instead, she shrugged, and murmured, "We'll need our weapons back first."

* * *

Kera lay prone, and her head rang from the twisting blow that had taken her off her feet. She hauled herself upright and heard Sendai's silvery laugh.

"Stay there, sister." The drow tilted her head. "Perhaps you are not quite the adversary I was led to believe."

"Who led you to believe anything about me?"

"Rumours, sister. Rumours on the wind and through the earth. _You_ are the one who came from Baldur's Gate, and we have heard of you."

"You're saying nothing new, and nothing interesting." She noted the distance between them again, and knew the drow could have both swords unsheathed before she was halfway.

"We bring death, sister. We take the lives of those around us. We are creatures of blood and death, and always, that is what we take. My people call that triumph, victory. You call it loss, and I wonder which of us is right?"

Kera said nothing.

"Come now," Sendai remarked. "How many have you killed? Not of our blood, sister, but those who stand around you. Those who would try to stop you. How many?"

"Enough."

"And how many have you lost, sister?"

"Too many," she answered, and the words fell hollow and honest.

She remembered Yoshimo, and the way his black eyes had narrowed and how his face had changed.

_"Yoshimo…why? Why do this?"_

_ "Death," he snapped. His hands flexed around his belt. "Death. Following me and finding me. I could not…I had to, for my life." _

_ She reached for him, her fingers brushing against his arm. "Yoshimo."_

_ "No." He jolted away from her. "I cannot. Do not make this…my friend, do not make this worse."_

He had found his death regardless, she remembered. He had emptied out his life onto the polished white stone floor, and she had seen him smile beneath the trembling arc of her sword.

"Some die and others flee," Sendai said, idly. "We are taught that to be feared is to be strong. You are not, sister. You are taught that to be feared is something terrible, and I do not understand it at all."

"You wouldn't," she managed, and two slow steps eased her closer to the drow. "We're different."

_"I cannot stay, my lady. I am sorry."_

_ "Anomen," she said, and her throat thickened. "We talked about this, didn't we? We'll look after you."_

_ "This is no longer about Moira," he said, and his frown deepened. He rubbed thick, scarred fingers across his temples. "The choices I…well. Choices were made."_

_ "_Your_ choices," she snarled. The words bubbled up, angry and frightened and accusing. "It wasn't…Anomen, that wasn't my choice and it wasn't my advice."_

_ "I know." His dark, soft gaze did not shift away from her. "I had hoped…" _

_ "Hoped what?"_

_ "I don't know."_

_ She breathed in, and the heavy scent of the sea filled her mouth and her nose. "You don't know. Don't lie to me."_

_ "I am not."_

_ "Then don't keep things from me." She looked at his face, and then at his hands, large and bluff and scarred. "You're really going?"_

_ For a long moment, he stayed silent. "It is for the best."_

_ "Your best, or mine?" _

_ "Kera."_

_ "I'm serious. I want to know why. Don't you think you owe me that much?" Something strange and cold coiled in her belly, and her throat was thick and painful. She wanted to shriek at him, wanted to know how it was he had decided such a thing so quickly, so vehemently. "Anomen, this morning, we…"_

_ "I know." _

_ She remembered it, remembered the languid sweetness of it, of him above her, of his hands cradling her face. "How long had you known? That you were going to leave?" _

_ "My lady, I wish you no ill. Please believe that." _

_ "I do believe that," she said, and her voice shook. "I just…" _

_ "Forgive me." He lifted his hand as if to touch her, changed his mind, and stepped away. "This thing in your blood, Kera. I cannot…it makes me afraid, and I wish that perhaps I had the courage to remain with you only as your friend, but I could not. Not after knowing you like this." _

_ "I never withheld it from you." _

_ "I know, and for that, I am grateful. I simply…when I stood in Saerk's house today, and they were dead, I could not…I can go no further with you." _

_ She nodded slowly, and some part of her was aware of the wet heat of her own tears as they fell. She had known, of course she had known. She had known since the time she had first spoken of her heritage, of her father and his name. She had seen the ashen fear on his face, and the way he fought for his own voice. She had known when she had woken screaming from dreams all aflame and he had twisted out of her embrace and left her alone. _

"_I think I understand. Where will you go?"_

_ "I do not know."_

_ She wanted to ask again, but she could not frame the words. The Order would not have him, she supposed, not now, not after Saerk's blood painted the walls of his own home, and his men lay dead, cut down by nothing more complicated than vengeance. _

_ "I am sorry, my lady." He framed her face between his hands and very gently, he kissed her forehead. "You will be in my thoughts." _

"We are not so different, sister," Sendai said, and her voice was soft. "Not really. You pretend that we are, but our blood is the same."

"Perhaps," Kera said, and closed the distance between them. She pushed off on one foot and let the impetus carry her into the drow.

Sendai melted away, and Kera grabbed for her shoulder. She found purchase against buckles and leather, and she yanked. Sendai twisted, and Kera reached desperately for the hilt over her left shoulder. Her fingers closed on it, and she kept moving, pushing past the drow and sliding the sword free. A scything blow to the back of her knees toppled her, and she winced when her elbow cracked hard against the floor. She twisted herself over, and when Sendai pinned her, she dragged the sword up roughly. She drove the elegant, curling hilt against the back of the drow's hand. Sendai snarled, and her weight shifted.

Kera rolled them both over, and she heard the drow's startled exhalation. She caught the drow's wrist and slammed the drow's hand against the stone floor until her fingers shivered open around the sword hilt. Somewhere inside herself, she was aware of the heat and the swell of the anger. Sendai's head twisted to one side, her mouth falling open. The drow was writhing, and she could smell sweat and fear on her obsidian skin. She ignored the sharp press of the drow's armour and she leaned closer, close enough that each shuddering breath came hard and uneven against her face. She raked the sword across the drow's throat, and she _felt_ it, the reeling shudder as Sendai's body slackened beneath her.

She let the sword drop. She settled her head against the drow's shoulder, and she let herself lie there, breathing in the familiar, coppery scent of the drow's death.

* * *

Solaufein pressed his shoulders against cool stone and listened. Above, the passageway was lightless and arched, and he was aware of his own heartbeat and the soft, tentative sound of footsteps somewhere ahead. He waited, and when he saw the tiny, pale flicker of a light spell, he let himself smile slightly. He hesitated a moment longer, and then he shielded his eyes and stepped into the light, and murmured, "It's me."

Haer'Dalis glared over his swords, and retorted, "_That_ is how you go about announcing your presence, my darkling? Darting out in front of us and expecting us to dither long enough to see whether it is, indeed, you?"

"You did though, didn't you?" He looked past the tiefling's narrow shoulders and saw Kera's sister, her eyes all bruised with shadows and her hands white about the haft of her bow. "You're both alright?"

"Yes," Imoen said. "Are you?"

He paused, and answered, "Yes. Have you had trouble?"

"Trouble?" Haer'Dalis shrugged. "Trouble is such a pedestrian word, do you not think? We are surfacers in the dark, my friend. What do you think?"

Solaufein nodded. "Stay behind me, and try to keep yourselves unnoticed."

"Unnoticed? In a drow city?" Haer'Dalis grinned viciously. "My darkling, I am neither your height nor your shape nor do we share the same skin. Do you _really_ think we have much hope to hold on hiding in the shadows, looking as we do?"

"You are still alive," he said. "Both of you."

"Solaufein," Imoen murmured, and one of her hands flitted up to twist at the loose ends of her hair. "Where would Kera be? Do you know?"

"In Sendai's rooms," he answered. "In the temple, here. Somewhere."

"How many of your kin walk these halls?" Haer'Dalis asked.

"Enough. Some of them are no longer breathing."

The tiefling nodded, and his dark eyes narrowed. "Then we are wasting time, my darkling."

"Yes." He slipped past them both, and peered down the passageway, to where the black stone walls opened up, and incense spiraled through the gloom. "Follow me, and quietly."

More than once, he heard the incisive, measured sound of footsteps, and he motioned Haer'Dalis closer. Small guard groups, he supposed, and when three drow males rounded the corner, he flung himself at them, the tiefling a heartbeat behind him. Further down the passageway, more waited, flushed out into the open when Imoen sent a dazzling burst of light through the archway. When six more lay dead on the cold stone, he shook his sword a little cleaner, and glanced at Haer'Dalis. "You're alright?"

Blood snaked down the side of the tiefling's face, and his hair hung heavy with sweat. "I am alive, my darkling, and I am missing sunlight. Shall we be moving on?"

Twisting steps led up into the scented darkness, and small hanging lamps threw spots of white light against the black stone. Solaufein led, half-listening to the nearly noiseless tiefling and the girl behind, her steps slightly heavier. His thoughts roiled helplessly, and again, he pushed them aside. Before he cleared the last steep rise of the stairs, he smelled drow blood. _Kera_, he thought, for a wondering, desperate instant. He edged forward, and saw seven of them, all of them males, and beyond, two females clad in the silken robes of priestesses. This was new death, he realised, and when he looked again, he saw the blood seeping through the gouge at a dead male's throat. He walked between them, and his shoulders tightened. Someone else was here, he was certain. The air against his lips tasted of steel and dampness and something that was not drow.

"Come out," he said, and hoped his assumption was correct. "It's Solaufein. Come out."

"Solaufein?" Jaheira's voice, and when the druid slipped out into the lamplight, he found himself grinning. "You're on your own?"

"No." He beckoned the other two closer, and saw how the druid's face relaxed into a surprised, exhausted smile.

"Imoen?" Jaheira pushed past him and spared a smile for the tiefling. "Imoen. You're alright?"

"I'm fine," the girl said. "Solaufein found us. We're both fine."

The druid caught the girl in a rough, clumsy embrace, and Solaufein looked away. He saw Minsc and Valygar, both of them bleeding and both of them filthy.

"Heard footsteps," Valygar said, and scrubbed one hand along his chin. "We weren't sure, so we hid. That last group we ran into…there were a lot of them."

"Yes." He opened his mouth to say more, but Jaheira grasped his arm.

"Solaufein," she said. "Where is she?"

"I don't know. Up here, I'm hoping." He added, "Jaheira, I did not know where you were, where you were being kept. I thought it best to seek out Kera first."

"I know, and it was the right choice. It was my choice, as well. We're with you," she said, fiercely.

He moved ahead of them again, his sword lightly clasped, and the inside of his mouth turning dry. _Sendai_, he thought, and shook himself. He slid through opened doors, and he breathed in air that was still and impatient. Two priestesses waited, and his sword found the first's throat before she could cry out. The second twisted frantically, and a jagged, hissing spell burrowed into her and flung her back. He followed up and drove his sword into her belly as she staggered upright. He pushed on, through doors that were heavy enough that his shoulder ached when he threw himself against them.

Pale light met him, and a drow, his eyes wide and startled. The same drow, Solaufein was certain, the _same drow_ who had hauled Kera's hands behind her back and fastened shackles over her wrists.

He dropped beneath the drow's first, flailing stroke, and used the flat of his forearm to swipe his sword aside. He caught the drow's wrist and twisted sharply. "Drop it. _Now_."

The blade clanged against the floor, and he spun the drow until the other male's back was flat against his chest. He settled his sword beneath the drow's chin, and snarled, "Sendai. Where is she?"

"Through the doors."

He dug the blade deeper against the drow's throat. "Is the Bhaalspawn in there?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." The drow shuddered. "I don't know. I've heard…I think…I don't know."

Solaufein tipped the drow's head back, and a single smooth motion had the drow's throat gaping. He heard the drow topple as he stepped past, and he set his shoulder against the doors and pushed.

Silence assailed him. He crossed the threshold, and noticed blood, so much blood, slick on the floor and pooling beneath the crumpled body of a drow female. Shackles, opened and empty, and Kera, sitting with her back to the door and her arms around her knees.

"Kera? Kera, it's me." Halfway across the room, he paused. "Kera? Can you hear me?"

She did not turn. Her shoulders shook beneath the unreeled coils of her hair, and when he asked again, she did not stir.

"_Kera_." Gently, he cupped a hand over her shoulder. "Kera, please turn around."

She whirled away from him, pushing up to her feet. Her eyes were wide and wild, and he could smell drow blood on her. She shoved away from him, desperately.

"Kera. It's me." He dropped his sword, and saw her flinch when the blade clanged against the floor. He wound both arms around her and murmured, "I'm here."

She was shaking, and each gasped breath came hard and ragged against his neck. He wondered again what had happened to her, how she had killed Sendai, _what she had done_.

"Kera. Look at me. I need you to look at me. _Look_ at me."

Her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted, and she whispered, "Solaufein?"

"Yes." Terrible, weak relief broke through him. "Oh, Kera. I thought I was never going to find you."

"I didn't…" She shook her head. "I didn't see you. I don't think I even heard you. I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"

"No," he said, softly. "Do not be sorry. You are here."

She leaned against him, and her hands slipped up and twined at the back of his neck. "You're bleeding."

"Yes."

"You're alright?"

"Yes," he lied.

"Then," she said, and shuddered. "Then we need to go."

"Yes." He framed her face between his hands. "Yes, we do."

"Solaufein." She leaned her forehead against his. "What is it?"

He thought of the priestess, and how she had twisted above him, and how he had spilled himself into her. "Nothing," he said, roughly. "You're right. We need to go."

"The others?"

"They're alright. They're fine. All of them."

"All of them?" Her breathing hitched, and a smile ghosted across her lips. "Really all of them?"

"All of them," he echoed. "Come with me?"

Her hands dropped to her sides, and he saw that her fingers were filthy, streaked with blood. Her nails were dark with it, and when he touched the side of her face, he felt the tremors that ran through her. Concern should wait, he knew, so he guided her through the room. He noticed how she looked at Sendai, broken and sprawled. He saw how her eyes turned thoughtful, how her smile widened slightly.

"Kera!"

Imoen hurtled through the doors, a bright-haired whirlwind. She clung to her sister and held on, and Solaufein heard her murmuring Kera's name, again and again.

"Oh. Kera. Gods, I thought we'd lost you."

"No," Kera said, quietly. "Not yet."

"Child," Jaheira said. "Are you injured?"

She shook her head. "Sendai is dead. Can I take us back now?"

Imoen hugged her again, her head bowed against her sister's neck. "Course you can."

She smiled again, and prodded Imoen. "You'll have to get off me first."

"I know," her sister answered, and grinned. She loitered long enough to weave her arms around Kera's waist. "I know, but I thought I'd get my turn out of the way before you started wrapping yourself around Solaufein again."


	34. Innocence

_A very big thank-you to everyone who's following this story. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Four – Innocence**_

The sun sank away behind Amkethran, and the heat faded from the stone walls and the great sweep of the sand. Kera walked beside Solaufein, her shoulder brushing his, and his arm loosely around her waist. She ached, bone-deep, and she could smell Sendai's blood and Sendai's death, clinging to her. She needed to be inside and clean and away from the slide of the sand beneath her heels. At the tavern, she listened vaguely as Haer'Dalis assured the innkeeper that all was mostly well, the drow threat taken care of, and their leader safely dispatched. She shook her head to the man's offer of food and drink. She let Solaufein lead her away to the bathhouse, and when the door closed behind them, she locked her arms around him.

He sighed her name, and his hands ran up and down her back. "You're filthy. Let me help you?"

She nodded silently. He unbuckled her belt and eased her out of her leathers. She sank into the water, and wordlessly, he found the soap. He scrubbed the blood and the grime from her hands and her hair. He lingered at her face, and his thumbs arced across her cheekbones.

"Better?"

She nodded. She searched for her voice, and murmured, "And why aren't you in here with me?"

Solaufein smiled, and it lightened his eyes. He lowered himself into the water opposite, and he stayed patient and still, even when she fumbled the soap between slippery fingers, even when her hands shook. She found small, half-closed gashes on him, on his shoulders and his chest, and a longer slice just above his hip.

"You should let Jaheira have a look at those."

"Tomorrow," he said, and gathered her against him.

"Yes." She turned against his shoulder, nestling her face into the wet fall of his hair. "I'm sorry. I'm…I just feel so tired."

"I know."

As gently, he guided her out of the bath and onto the cool tiles. He wrapped the heavy towel around her shoulders and she leaned into him. She caught his chin and turned his head, and when she kissed him, he responded tentatively.

"Kera," he said, a little awkwardly. "You are tired, and we need to speak."

"I know. I need to…can I tell you about Sendai?"

"Of course," he said. "But not here."

She nodded, and she struggled into her clothes long enough to follow him down the corridor. She trailed him through the door and found the curtains open, the shutters flung wide, and the room all full of moonlight. Solaufein closed the door, and she shed her clothes again. She led him across to the bed and curled herself against him, skin to skin. He did not press her, did not speak. His hands ran through the damp length of her hair, teasing out tangles.

"She talked to me," Kera said. "She wouldn't stop. She wanted to know why we were different. If we were the same."

Solaufein's hand wandered down her side, cupped her hip. "Can you tell me what happened?"

She did, and the words scattered from her lips almost too fast. She told him how she had pinned the drow, how the spell had opened the shackles. How it had hurt when she had ploughed into the drow again, and taken her off her feet. How she had felt it, deep and angry and so very obvious, when the drow had died.

"I couldn't…I just sat there, Solaufein. It was terrible. I just sat there on top of her and got as close to her as I could. It was…Solaufein, I felt her death and I _enjoyed_ it. I pushed my fingers into her throat and I enjoyed the way her blood felt."

Fiercely, he pulled her against him. His cheek slid against hers, and he told her, "I am not going anywhere."

"But, what I did, I…it was terrible."

"Yes. Yes, it was. If I had been there, I would not have let you do it." His voice roughened. "I should have been there."

She kissed him, desperately and clumsily. She trailed a hand down his chest and felt him shudder. "Solaufein."

"Wait." He caught her wrist. "Please, wait."

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Kera." His eyelids flickered. "I am not sure how to say this."

She remembered Sendai's words, and the promise of drow hospitality, and her skin prickled. _No_, she thought, and made herself murmur, "Just say it."

"I was taken to the priestess' rooms." He hesitated a moment longer, and said, "She asked questions, about you and about me, and I lied. Then she had me, and afterwards, I killed her."

"She…" Kera's fingers stilled against his shoulder. "She _had_ you?"

"Yes."

"Why…" Her stomach knotted, and when she swallowed, her tongue seemed thick and heavy. She fought to find the right thing to say, and words spilled out, shaking and cold. "How could you let it happen?"

"There was no other way."

"You're strong," she said. "I know how strong you are. I know how fast you are. How did…how _could_ you?"

"I needed to survive. I needed to find you."

"Yes, but…" She shook her head. "Do you truly not understand why…"

"Why what?"

"Why it feels like you've just punched me in the gut," she said.

His eyebrows met. "Kera, it was not my choice. I did not let it happen because I wanted it to."

"Then you should've done something else," she snapped.

"She had me unarmed," he said, and something slid into his voice, something hard. "She had me unarmed, and manacled, and alone, and she wanted to know what a drow was doing with surfacers."

"You could've killed her. Before she took you into her bed. You could have killed her before."

"With her guards at the door?"

"Yes," she snarled.

"It was not something I enjoyed."

"But you still managed to _do_ it."

"Yes," he said, and his eyes flashed. "As I had done in Ust Natha, too many times to count. Diaytha was not gentle, nor was she patient, and I let her do it because there was no other way."

"Did you please her?"

"Kera."

Her throat thickened, and relentlessly, she asked, "Did she please you?"

"Do not ask me these things. It does not matter what I tell you."

"Did it hurt?"

"The act itself? No," Solaufein said. "It was her hands on me that hurt. On my chest. On my back. On the inside of my thighs. She had a knife."

She wanted to push herself away from him, wanted to drag her clothes back and run outside and lose herself. She wanted to scream at him, snarl at him to leave her alone and not even _think_ about wanting to touch her again. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and kiss him silent and soothe away the strange pain she could see in his eyes.

"Do you want me to go?"

"No," she said, eventually, and swallowed. "Not unless you want to."

"No. I don't."

Timidly, Kera touched his hair where the heavy white strands gleamed against the line of his shoulder. "You killed her."

"Yes."

"How?"

"I covered her mouth and her nose, and afterwards, I broke her neck."

"Was it over quickly?"

"No. No, it wasn't."

She looked at him, at the sharp angles of his face, swathed in shadow. "Did you enjoy it?"

"No."

His gaze flicked away from her, and she ached. She did not mean to, not really, but she was exhausted and her eyes were gritty and she felt it again, the surge and swirl of the anger. "Was there anything you _didn't_ do to her?"

He clasped her face between both hands and kissed her, demanding and fierce. "This," Solaufein said, and kissed her again. "This."

She sighed, or shuddered, and sank into the circle of his arms. His shoulder was warm and solid beneath her cheek. He said nothing, and his hands did not stray from where they played gently through her hair. Sleep claimed her, and she fell into the strange greyness of her dreams.

* * *

The high stone arches were full of lamplight, and idly, Kera wondered why. She held her hands up and cupped the copper richness of it between her palms. "Am I here for a reason?"

"Always, god-child," the woman answered. Her golden eyes gleamed, and she added, "You killed another sibling."

"Yes."

"You are no longer the child who fled from Candlekeep."

"No," she snapped. "I'm not. Is that so surprising? After everything? After Irenicus?" _After Sendai_, she thought. After the death she had caused, and the blood she had rubbed between her fingers.

"God-child, it is not my place to reprimand. It is only my place to show you. Do you remember Candlekeep?"

She opened her mouth to snarl that she did, of course she did, and the stone trembled and spun beneath her feet.

_Sunlight, through the high window in Gorion's study. The swirl of the dust and the smell of the parchment and the black spill of the ink against her fingers. She hurtled her way through the last few pages, and when he smiled and nodded, she was out of the chair and through the door and into the last of the autumn warmth outside. _

_ "There you are." Imoen grinned and beckoned her closer. "I thought you were going to be shut up in there all day."_

_ "I wanted to finish the book."_

_ "You are so strange sometimes."_

_ "Oh? Says she who cried like a little girl when she read the end of that story about the elven girl and the bard?"_

_ "It was sad."_

_ "It was also after midnight, and you didn't want to sleep on your own, so I had to put up with you sniffling and weeping at the other end of my bed."_

_ She woke shivering that night, and the threads of the dream clung to her. There had been flame and heat and somewhere dark and old, and when she tried to remember it, the details fled like smoke. She told Gorion, and he soothed her with a mug of sharp cider and she did not miss the worried frown on his face, or the way his fingers dug into his stubble, across the small map of scars there. _

"What's the point?" Kera said, shakily. "It was always like that. Often like that. The days were wonderful. Then the dreams started."

"Would you return to it, if you could?"

"As I am now?"

"As you were then," the woman said.

"What would the point be?" She shrugged. "I'd still be a Bhaalspawn. I'd still have this blood in me. Gorion would still die, and so would Sarevok, and then Irenicus would have us."

"If some things were uncertain, if some things could bend beneath the possibility of change, would you have it so?"

"I don't know. No. I wouldn't."

"No?" Something in the woman's gaze sharpened. "Tell me, god-child. Why?"

"Because," she said, and stopped. She thought of Solaufein, and the yearning, desperate way he had held her in Sendai's chambers. The way he had gathered her against his chest until she was aware of nothing but the beat of his heart beneath hers and _him_, whole and breathing. "I am here _because_ of those things, all of them. I feel as I do because of them. Changing some things would change them all, and I would not want that."

The woman smiled. "Ah, god-child. You are not as lost as you sometimes believe."

"Really? Then why do I feel like I'm stumbling into someone else's trap most of the time?"

"I cannot tell you how this will end, god-child. I am here to help you through Alaundo's words, that is all. I can offer suggestion, or advice, but I cannot tell you how the world will be, after the prophecy unravels."

Kera trailed her fingertips along the smooth stone. "Then give me some advice. I don't…I feel like I'm floundering. I don't know what to do next except what I'm told, and that feels like a trap. Another trap."

"You might be the one to dampen the fires," the woman said, and her eyes blazed. "You might be the one to oppose Bhaal and his return. Would you, child, if you could?"

"Of course I would," she said, fiercely. "I have _never_ wanted it."

"Wishing something will not come to pass is not the same, child. Not the same at all as fighting against it, as stopping it, as becoming something greater than what you are."

"Riddles," she spat. "Riddles again? I'm being pulled along on someone else's path, and since that seems to be the only way to learn _anything_, that is what I've done. Sendai is dead. Abazigal is still out there. Do I have to kill him as well? Will that be the end of it?"

"Child." The woman's white fingers brushed the loose waves of Kera's hair. "No, it will not be the end of it. Hold onto yourself, god-child. Hold onto that part of you that laughed in Candlekeep. Give in as you did when you tasted Sendai's death, and it will be all the simpler next time."

She flinched. "I…you knew?"

"Yes, child. I can feel it on you now, her death, and the way you reveled in it."

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I didn't mean to. It just _happened_. I was angry, and then she was dead, and…"

"Hold onto yourself," the woman said, softly, and not condemning. "There is much yet that you must do, and it will not be simple."

* * *

The last hours of the night found Kera curled at the window, her head tilted against the panes, and her thoughts all uneven. _Candlekeep_, she thought, and let herself smile slightly. How different had she been, she wondered? How _young_ had she been, before the Underdark, before Spellhold?

She remembered the forest outside Trademeet, and how the druids had thanked them after the freeing of the grove, and how the fires had leaped and crackled. She remembered Haer'Dalis, and how he had sung until the stars waned, and danced himself dizzy between each song. She remembered Jaheira, and how she had smiled, softly and mostly to herself, as the music soared, how she had walked between the arching branches.

_She heard him behind her, breathed in slowly, and turned. Anomen smiled hesitantly, and murmured, "My lady, I don't believe I've ever seen you…I mean, you are quite beautiful. In this dress."_

_ She laughed. "Thank you."_

_ He kissed her beside the jasmine, and two weeks later in the inn, his affections were sweet and slow and gentle. _

_ "Kera, I must confess that I love you."_

_ All sorts of words darted through her thoughts, and the skin between her shoulders prickled. But he was looking at her through those soft brown eyes, and she blurted out, "Yes. I love you, too."_

_ It was a lie, and she knew it the instant the words left her lips. But his smile brightened, and he drew her against his broad, muscled frame again, and she hoped that perhaps it might be alright. _

Soft rustling startled her. Guiltily, she looked across the room in time to see Solaufein sitting up, the sheets pooling around his waist.

"I'm here," she said. "I didn't want to…I couldn't sleep, and I didn't want to disturb you."

He pushed one hand through the disheveled tumble of his hair. "Did you rest at all?"

"Yes. A little. I saw her again, the woman. The woman all made of light. She knew I'd killed Sendai."

His head lifted sharply. "She did?"

"And she knew _how_ I'd killed Sendai." She stared down at her own fingers, clean and pale and laced together. "She said that maybe I could stop Bhaal's return. Maybe I could be different from the others."

"Did she say why?"

"No. And she asked whether or not I'd want anything to be different. If I'd have preferred things to be easier." She looked at him, at the way his hands tightened in the sheets, at the gleam of sweat in the hollow of his throat. "I wouldn't want that. It might…some things might have been easier, had they happened differently, but then I wouldn't be the same. We wouldn't be the same."

"Kera."

"Will you sit with me?"

He nodded, and swung his feet onto the floor. He did not stop to scoop up his clothes, or hers. He poised on the windowsill beside her, and the warmth of his bare shoulder settled against hers.

"Solaufein, can I be honest with you?"

"Yes."

"I mean horribly honest. Painfully honest."

Silently, he nodded.

"I didn't sleep well. I kept thinking about you and the priestess. I kept wondering if you'd enjoyed any part of it. If you'd wanted any part of it." She licked at dry lips, and added, "I wanted to make you tell me exactly what you'd done to her. What she'd done to you. I wanted to know exactly what you felt. But…"

His fingers brushed the loose ends of her hair. "Go on."

"Solaufein." She let herself worry through another instant, and then she said, "I trust you. Before we went there, and now, still. If it was the only way, then it was the only way."

"Kera, I…"

"No, wait. I need to get this out before I panic." She laughed, a little breathlessly, and said, "I trust you, and…well, if it had been me, and I hadn't wanted it, and then when I'd told you, you'd been angry with me, I don't know what I would have felt. It would've been terrible."

"Kera."

"No, keep listening. I know you're going to tell me that in Ust Natha you were made to do things like that all the time. And maybe that does mean that it's different, but that's not the point."

"What is?"

"I'm sorry," she said, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "For…I'm just sorry."

"So am I." Slowly, he slipped an arm around her waist. "Kera?"

"Yes?"

"Does this mean you still want this? Us?"

"Oh, Solaufein. Yes. Yes, I do."

"You trust me," he said, wonderingly.

"Did you think I didn't?"

"No, it's not that." He frowned. "I mean, I have never…we don't say such things. Not so simply."

"Simple or not, it's true."

"It's not simple," he said, slowly. "It's something I feel, and something I had hoped you felt as well, but words like that do not come easily to us."

Kera turned so that she could wind her legs around his hips. She misjudged the width of the sill, and when he steadied her, she found herself laughing until her vision swam. She rested her forehead against his shoulder and heard the perplexed note in his voice when he asked, "What exactly is funny?"

"Me," she said. "You. Both of us. I don't know."

He cupped his hand beneath her chin. "You are very strange sometimes, surfacer girl."

She kissed his fingers. "So are you, drow."

"You are also very tired, still." He traced the tight, strained skin around her eyes. "Will you come back to bed?"

She nodded, and let him lead her across the floor again. In the warm silence she nestled against his shoulder, and when the night gave way to the dawn, she drifted into sleep, aware of his breathing and the brush of his lips against her hair.

* * *

Imoen's dreams were filled with fire, and when she woke, the sheets were tangled and sticky around her. She groaned and pushed her hair out of her face. Across the room, she could hear Jaheira's measured breathing. Briefly, she was tempted to wake the druid, to tell her about the dreams, to complain about the stifling heat. Instead, she kicked the sheets away and scrounged on the floor for her clothes. She checked the window and saw the first grey touch of dawn and silently concluded that sleeping should be done with.

The corridor was deserted, and she paused, listening. Her sister would be with her drow, and she did not want to bother them, not after she had seen how they had looked at each other in Sendai's chambers.

Had she ever seen her sister like that before, she wondered? Shaking and exhausted, she remembered, and her eyes all full of longing when she looked at the drow.

Outside, the last of the nighttime coolness still clung crisp and serene. She wound her way along the narrow path that lead behind the tavern and meandered up to the high shelf of rock behind. She kept her gaze on the toes of her boots, and when she sighed and looked up, she finally noticed Valygar, sitting poised near the edge. "Hey. Am I disturbing you?"

"No. Couldn't sleep?"

"Woke up." She shrugged, and tried not to think of the dream, and the heat of it, and the bright letters that had glowed through the flames. "I thought I'd be all worn out after…well, you know. The drow."

He nodded.

Imoen flopped down beside him. "Did anything happen to you and Jaheira and Minsc?"

"Not really."

"No. Us neither. I was stuck with Haer'Dalis. I made him sing to me."

"Hardly a trial for him," Valygar said drily.

She laughed. "I guess. I was really worried, you know?"

"About your sister."

"Yes." She plucked awkwardly at her bootlaces. "I really thought maybe we wouldn't all make it out of there."

"We've made it through worse places."

"I know." But she remembered the wrenching, prodding certainty, that they were lost, that Kera was lost. "Valygar?"

"Yes?"

"I had a really strange dream."

His head lifted sharply, and his dark eyes narrowed. "One of _those_ dreams?"

"I think so. There was fire, lots of fire. And my hands were all hot, and then the fire was on my hands as well, but I wasn't burning. Not properly." She noticed his level, thoughtful gaze, and grimaced. "I'm sorry. You wanted some time to yourself, and I'm telling you about me being strange."

"No," he said, softly. "It's alright. It is strange, Imoen. I cannot pretend otherwise. Some of the things you say and some of the things you see in your dreams are troubling. You and Kera both. But I will listen, if you want to speak of it."

She grinned, and levered up on one elbow. "I think it's been a while since I've heard you say so many sentences all at the same time."

"A lapse, obviously."

Imoen peered at him until she saw the slight creases at the corners of his mouth. "Very funny. It's strange at the moment, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is."

"What do you think's going to happen?"

"I don't know."

"Gods, Valygar." She flicked the side of his arm. "Can't you tell me something nice and harmless? Something about how we're all going to be fine and come out of this breathing and with no new scars?"

He shrugged. "Would you believe me if I did?"

"Probably not."

Between the white ridges of the roofs, she could see the fierce brightness of the rising sun. She let herself sit silently for a while, aware of the ranger beside her, and the way the light caught against the small golden hoops that wound through his dark hair. She thought of the dream, and when she tried to banish it, she thought of Spellhold again, as she always did, even when she did not want to.

_The door swung open, and she did not raise her head. She kept her arms locked around her knees and hoped that if she pretended hard enough, the door would close, and he would leave, and she would not have to believe the terrible sounds that had rung through the walls. _

"_There you are, child."_

_His voice was the same, incisive and clipped and cold. She heard his feet against the floor, and then the creak of leather and brush of air against her arm. He must have knelt, she supposed, and when he touched her shoulder, she flinched away. _

"_You can walk with me, child, or I can take you with me." _

_She jerked her head up, and tried to meet his eyes. They were blue and jewel-bright and far too beautiful for his strange, rippling face. "Get away from me."_

"_Your defiance is wasted," Irenicus told her. "Come, child. There is no choice, not now. Stand up."_

_She shook her head, and when he hauled her to her feet, she lashed out and kicked. Easily – pitifully easily – he wrenched her arm behind her back and marched her across the room. She twisted against him, all the way down the corridor, all the way down the stairs, all the way across the high stone chamber with its gleaming glass jars. _

"_How long have I been here?"_

_He said nothing. He pushed her onto the table, and when she thrashed, he busied himself with ropes until she was pinioned. _

"_What did you do to all the Cowled Wizards?"_

_He tightened the knots at her wrists and turned away. She heard something slide against metal, and his footsteps. _

"_Did you kill them all? What about the other inmates?" She stared up at the high arches of the ceiling above. He was behind the table, she was sure, and she strained to listen. "What exactly are you going to do to me? More of the same? Or will you be breaking with tradition?"_

_His hand cupped the back of her head, and she tried to jerk away from him. Something cold and edged touched the side of her neck. _

"_Well?" Imoen said, and she heard the shrill fear in her own voice. "What is it? You've lost your own Bhaalspawn to tie down and play with, so now you're going to concentrate on me, is that it?" _

_She wrenched against the ropes again, and he murmured something, some spell that left her head reeling. She was aware of the pressure of his fingers against her nape, and the sudden, flickering pain of the knife at her neck. _

"_They'll find me, you know. They'll come for me. You know they will. They'll come for me. She'll come for me." _

_He said nothing, and even when she screamed herself hoarse, he simply waited for her to finish, and turned his attention back to his work. _

Imoen stared down at her own hands, at the faint scars that mapped the back of her knuckles. Some of them were from Candlekeep, she knew, from that time she had fallen out of the tree, or stumbled down the steps after too much cider, or lost a sparring round to Kera. Others were _his_, and she twisted her fingers together.

"Valygar?"

Beside her, the ranger shifted slightly. "Yes?"

She summoned a grin, and nudged him. "Race you back to the tavern for breakfast?"


	35. Whispers

_As always, many thanks to everyone who's following this story. I own little, except for a few original characters. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Five – Whispers**_

The day wore on, and the wind scouring in off the desert brought stinging sand. With his cape wrapped around him, Haer'Dalis trailed alongside Jaheira and Valygar, and tried to distract himself by eying the fluttering swirls of silk that hung from the stalls. He noticed silver as well, laid out in glittering arrays, and jewels set against sweeps of bright cloth.

The walk to the monastery left his shirt heavy with sweat. He brushed the clinging ends of his hair away from his shoulders and silently concluded that he needed another bath, and soon.

Jaheira waited stiffly while the guards wrestled the gates open. "We need to see Balthazar."

"He's busy."

"He'll want to see us," she said firmly. "It's about Sendai. The drow."

The guard scowled. "What about the drow?"

"It's done," Jaheira said. "Now let us in, and tell Balthazar we need to see him."

The guard hesitated, swiped a hand across his forehead, and nodded. "Alright. Follow me."

The guard led them to the same small courtyard, and while they waited, Haer'Dalis leaned back against the wall and let the coolness of it seep in through his shirt. He turned his cheek against the stone, and when Valygar smiled slightly, he grinned and shrugged. "It's warm."

"I noticed."

"My friend, flushed with this terrible heat is not something that becomes me. Flushed with passion, in the arms of a lover who appreciates such a thing, well…that is acceptable and indeed expected."

Valygar frowned. "You didn't have to qualify that for me."

"I know." He opened his mouth to add something deliberately lascivious, but the far door opened, and he watched as Balthazar's long, loose robes brushed the floor. "We aren't disturbing you, I hope?"

The man paused, his hands lightly clasped. "You bring news?"

"Sendai is dead," Jaheira said. "Along with many of her drow. Those that remain are leaderless."

"Indeed?" Something flickered across the man's face, and Haer'Dalis thought he saw interest, and the slightest touch of surprise. "How?"

"She fell, as drow tend to," Haer'Dalis said. "She fell, as most tend to, when introduced to the sharp edge of a sword."

Balthazar's gaze swung and pinned him, and the skin between his shoulders tightened. "And Kera?"

"Is well," Jaheira answered.

"Good. Your payment will be waiting with the guards at the gate."

"And Abazigal?" Haer'Dalis asked lightly. "Any words of suggestion or wisdom as to where he may lurk?"

"North and east, where the sands give way to the high rock plains, and the wind there screams." Unwavering, Balthazar added, "There is a fortress there now. Some kind of fortress, in any case, built into the rock."

"What does it hide?"

"Abazigal, and secrets." Balthazar sighed. "I can offer maps, and supplies once again, but you should know now that neither merchants nor travelers nor mercenaries brave that part of the desert now."

"What is Abazigal?" Jaheira asked.

"We do not know. I would presume that he has his own followers, and that they are many."

"It will be done," she said.

"And you shall be paid, in turn. Now, you must excuse me."

The man swept away, as silently and as quickly as he had before, and Haer'Dalis wondered at his strange, dark eyes and the smooth planes of his face. Silently, he followed the others back to the gates, and summoned an idle grin when he weighed the coin bag before throwing it to Valygar.

"Haer'Dalis," Jaheira said, when the monastery fell behind them, and the wind whipped up pale clouds of dust. "What is it?"

He paused, and eventually, he confessed, "I cannot read him. Not properly. All I see in his face is reserved concern, and that cannot be all he is."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes," he said. "He claims himself the defender of this place, and yet he hides behind his walls. His eyes are mirrors, my fierce beauty, and I do not know how to shatter them."

"You don't need to."

"No?" He pushed on ahead of them. The sand shifted beneath his heels, and the twinge that ran up the back of his calves distracted him a little. "Then what else? We face Abazigal, and lead him to his death, return victorious, and yet still _this man_ remains here?"

"I know," Jaheira said, softly.

"Forgive me," he said, and smiled. "Some days my temper flies away from me like some errant breeze."

* * *

The noonday sun fell bright and sharp through the window, and Solaufein turned his head away slightly. He sat on the windowseat, his bare feet flat on the warm stone, and leaning back against Kera. Her knees were raised either side of his, and her fingers played through the loose ends of his hair.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"When did you first see surfacers?"

He traced one hand up the inside of her thigh, felt her shiver in response. "I saw elves in the Ust Natha slave markets when I was very young, and then elves on the surface when I went up with a raiding party. But I did not see human surfacers until much later."

"Were they slaves?"

"Yes. There were ten of them, and they were all men. They seemed so tall. I didn't see a human female until years later."

"What did you think?"

"That you are all very strange."

She chuckled and wound her arms around his waist. "All of us?"

"All of you." He turned his head slightly and nuzzled the side of her face. "You are very beautiful, surfacer girl."

He heard the hitch in her breath. "Solaufein."

"I'm here." He turned, and saw how she was looking at him, her eyes wide and wanting. He hesitated a moment longer, and when he kissed her, her lips parted beneath his. "Kera?"

"Yes?"

"Stay there," he said, and slipped off the windowsill. He cupped both hands beneath her thighs and urged her forward slightly. When he knelt between her knees, she touched the back of his head. He looked up at her, at the way her hair spilled over her shoulders, at the shy curve of her mouth, and he wanted her.

He teased her until she trembled beneath the gentle pressure of his mouth and his hands, and when he pulled away long enough to kiss the soft skin just below her hip, she sighed his name. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She found his ears, and when she caressed and pinched and lightly pulled, he groaned.

"Stop," he managed, breathlessly. "I can't do this if you're doing _that_."

She laughed. "Make me."

He was on his feet an instant later, tugging her off the windowsill and against him. He wanted to carry her across to the bed, but when she caught the very tip of his ear between her teeth, he gave in and let his weight take them both onto the floor.

"Solaufein!" She was still laughing, softly, and something inside him twisted. "Oh, Solaufein."

Her legs opened around his waist, and his first, deep thrust had them both shuddering. She dug her fingers against his hips, guiding him faster, and he tried to last her out. He slipped one hand between them, and even when the muscles in his back tensed awkwardly, he stroked her until she writhed. She sighed his name, and when she arched into her climax, he followed, his head falling against her shoulder.

When his thoughts settled, and his pulse slowed a little, he leaned up on his elbows. "Kera?"

She was flushed, her temples dappled with sweat. "Mmm?"

"Did I hurt you?"

"The floor may have met certain parts of me rather swiftly," she said, and grinned.

"I was going to carry you to the bed." He cupped her chin. "I wanted you."

"I know." She nibbled at the tips of his fingers. "I wanted you when I realised you were there in Sendai's rooms with me."

"I am slightly appalled," he said, and smiled. Hesitantly, he added, "Last night I needed to tell you…well. You needed to know."

"Yes." She swept his hair away from his face. "I know."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking at you," she said. Her thumb stroked beneath his jaw. "Just looking at you."

"Can you do that in bed just as easily?"

"I think I can." She wriggled out from underneath him and grimaced. "Oh. If I can make it there. I think your enthusiasm has broken me."

"That's…good?"

"It's wonderful."

She led him across to the bed and tangled herself around him. They lay like that for a while, and he listened to even tempo of her breathing, and the soft sounds of her fingers as they slid through his hair and brushed against the rings in his ears.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"I missed you." She rolled on top of him and rested her cheek against his chest.

He sank his hands into her hair and guided her head up. "I am here. You are here."

"I know," Kera said, softly.

For a long moment, he looked at her, at her pale surfacer's face and strange brown surfacer's eyes. He kissed her, and she met him desperately, her mouth working fiercely against his. He sat up and drew her onto his lap and slowly, they surged together. Afterwards, in the hot, breathless silence, he rested his chin gently against her shoulder. She was shaking, her skin flushed and damp, and her eyes were too bright.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," she said, and smiled. "You're here."

* * *

Jaheira quartered the room again, and when that failed to banish the tension in her shoulders, she spun and jammed her hands through her belt. Through the window, she could see the fierce blaze of the sunset, and beneath her shirt, her shoulders were damp with sweat. _Abazigal,_ she thought, and could not quite push aside her unease. A name, and that was all they had, and a bag of coin, and this man Balthazar and his strange dark eyes.

She had seen Kera in Sendai's rooms, seen the stripped fear on her face, the blood on her hands, and she wondered again what had happened between them. She remembered that day in Baldur's Gate, before they had ventured beneath the city, and Kera had sat at the window and stared into the darkness.

_"I can't do this."_

_ "You have to," Jaheira told her firmly. "Sarevok is waiting for us, and if we do not do this…"_

_ "We?" Kera's head jerked up. "_I'm_ the one with the same blood as him. I'm the one he's going to kill."_

_ "Kera," she said, a little gentler. "We will be there, and we will help you. I will help you." _

She _had_ done it, that day, and Sarevok had fallen, and even now, Jaheira wondered why she was allowing herself to worry.

_Because this was different and this was to the rhythm of Alaundo's words and she did not know how this could end, not really, not with Kera breathing and well. _

Jaheira scowled and marched out into the corridor. Downstairs, she discovered Valygar at the table in the corner, and when she sat heavily, he wordlessly beckoned over one of the innkeeper's girls. She wrapped her hands around the cool glass the girl left and managed a terse smile. "Thank you."

He shrugged. "It's warm outside still."

"Where are the others?"

"Haer'Dalis dragged Imoen and Minsc outside. They're at the market."

"They'd better be careful."

"She'll be fine," Valygar said, and the corners of his mouth moved. "Anything threatening the bard doesn't talk to death, Minsc can hit."

Almost despite herself, she laughed. "Very astute. Have you seen Kera?"

"No."

She nodded and sipped at the drink. Part of her wished she could leave them to each other, her ward and the drow, leave them to each other for as long as they might need. But she could not, not with Abazigal waiting, so she nodded again, and said, "We'll need to leave in the morning."

* * *

The moon rose, and lanterns were lit at the marketplace and hung from the corners of the stalls. Imoen breathed in the heavy nighttime air and watched the women as they called out prices for bright handfuls of saffron and jars of cardamom. Beside her, Minsc smiled and murmured, "I don't know what most of these are, but they look very nice."

Imoen laughed. "Brave enough to try any?"

"Not tonight."

"You're so gallant," Imoen said, and prodded him lightly. "Come on. I've lost Haer'Dalis already."

"No, you haven't," the tiefling answered, and slipped past a tall, dark-haired man. "Though you are a little harder to find in a crowd than I assumed, little one."

"Is that a compliment?" She grinned. "And just what have you been wasting money on?"

"_Wasting?_" He held up jewels, small and sparkling and strung on a delicate silver chain. "These are not evidence of the wasting of coin, little one."

"So they're just evidence of your vanity, then?"

"But of course. You may count yourself blessed by fortune if I ask you to braid them through my hair later."

Imoen giggled and retorted, "Find some other willing slave. Have you finished preening? I'm starving."

She led them back towards the tavern, half-listening to the bard as he tried to convince Minsc of the need for both sparkling decorations and long hair with which to display them. The sand crunched under her feet, and she was glad of the slight breeze, soft and cool, that touched the back of her neck.

"You're with the strangers," said a stocky, armour-clad man. "Aren't you?"

Startled, Imoen looked up and into his face, quarried with lines and wary. "I'm sorry?"

"And the drow," the man said. Behind him, there were others, and she supposed they were mercenaries, or merchants' guards. "You're travelling with a drow?"

She opened her mouth to spin him some lie, but Haer'Dalis' hand brushed her wrist, and she let him step in front of her.

"We are all travelers, my friend," the bard said mildly. "Myself, my friends here, you and your friends."

The man's gaze flicked to the bard, and he snapped out, "And what are you?"

"A traveler, and her friend," he answered, and lazily ran his fingers across his left sword hilt. "Is there something in particular you wished to say, or do you direct such vague insults at anyone who dares to cross your path?"

"There's rumours of Bhaalspawn coming down from the north. With that, and all the talk of drow out in the desert, it seems that nothing's safe."

"Nowhere is ever truly safe, my friend," Haer'Dalis said in the same amiable tone. "Neither out in the deserts or here. Now, before the last of my patience runs away from me, _was_ there anything you needed to say to us?"

The man hesitated, and his dark eyes flicked back to Imoen. "We don't mean any harm. It's just…all those stories. Where there's Bhaalspawn, there's trouble."

"Well," Haer'Dalis said, and grinned. "If I stumble across any Bhaalspawn, I shall be sure to keep your words in mind. Now, you will excuse us, I am sure."

Imoen followed him, and noticed how his hand tightened around his sword hilt again. Minsc flanked her, and he squeezed her shoulder wordlessly. "Haer'Dalis," she said, but he shook his head and motioned her silent.

She complied, and lasted until she saw the tavern windows. The door was open, and the lanterns strung up across the square in front threw trembling spots of light. Soft music spilled across the square, and Imoen recognized more than a few of the tavern girls, twisting and laughing as they danced. After promising to find food, Minsc meandered inside, and Imoen nudged the tiefling. "Thanks. For that."

"Barely a trial, little one. Though if your gratitude is great and guilt-ridden enough, perhaps you would honour me with a dance?"

"You know I'm only going to say yes because I don't want to see Jaheira gut you for your temerity if you ask her."

"And because no one _else_ in our courageous little group deigns to dance with _you_," Haer'Dalis said merrily. "You will have to forgive me if I stay armed."

"And here I thought you weren't afraid of anything," Imoen responded, and when he held out one hand, she stepped closer and clasped his fingers. Around them, the music changed, turned swift and dizzying and challenging. "Ah, this is rather fast, isn't it?"

Haer'Dalis grinned. "Then you will have to keep up, won't you, little one?"

* * *

Kera lit the candles, and the marigold light fluttered across the edges of their clothes and their weapons and swam in Solaufein's hair. She curled herself beside him again, and wove her fingers through his. Through the open window, she heard music, bright and fast, and she smiled.

"Do you want to go outside?"

She kissed the backs of his knuckles in turn. "I'd have to get dressed, wouldn't I?"

"This is not a drow city, so yes, probably."

"Only probably?" She let the tips of her fingers run across the delicate bones of his wrist. "You wouldn't be rushing out to defend my honour, then?"

"Why is it," he said, warily, "That I feel that whatever I say to this will be wrong?"

Kera laughed. "Forgive me?"

"I'm sure I'll find a way."

She pushed his hair behind his ears. "Has your hair always been long?"

"Yes. For as long as I can remember. Has yours?"

"No. When I was very young – around eleven? – we thought it would be fun to try something different. Gorion was very attentive, but he was still a man, and by the time he realised that both me and Imoen had hacked our hair into the most awful mess, the only thing left to do was chop it even shorter." She grinned. "I looked like a boy until it all grew back properly."

"A boy?" He ran an admiring glance over her, and added, "I'm not convinced."

"It was years ago."

"May I ask you something?"

"Of course you can."

His fingers skimmed along her collarbone, and he muttered, "How old are you?"

"I am not sure how long Irenicus kept us," she said. "I tried working it out, but I don't know if it was weeks or months or longer."

"Kera."

"No, it's alright," she said, gently. "It just means that I think I am twenty years old, but I might be twenty-one." She shrugged, and a little awkwardly, she added, "An extra year can mean a lot to surfacers."

"Twenty," he repeated. "That seems so…when we are twenty, we are children still."

"How old did you think I was?"

"I don't know. I know we are different."

"Yes," she said, and trailed one hand down his chest. "I haven't frightened you, have I?"

"I'm a drow," he said, and smiled slowly. "We don't feel fear, remember?"

"You also evade quite well when you put your mind to it."

"I am much, much older than you."

"Oh, that's not fair." She rolled herself on top of him, and when he laughed, she swung his arms above his head. "How much older? And don't you dare answer in drow."

"I have a century on you. Almost exactly, give or take a year or so. Are you going to let me go now?"

"No," she answered, thoughtfully. "Not yet."

"Then whatever _are_ you going to do with me?"

"I'll think of something." Kera rested her face against the side of his neck and breathed him in, clean skin and the soft scent that clung to his hair. She had known, _of course_ she had known, that he must have lived so much longer, that he _would_ live so much longer. Still, something strange and cold pooled in her belly when she thought of it, and when she pressed her lips against the fluttering pulse in his throat, she ached.

"Kera," Solaufein said, softly. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she said, and loosened her grip on his wrists. "Just thinking."

His thumbs brushed her cheekbones and mercifully, he did not press her, did not ask. He sighed something, soft and sibilant words, and then her name, and she smiled.

"You're going to have to teach me some of your language."

"But then I will no longer appear quite so mysterious."

"Hah. True. You'll just have to teach me the important words."

"Oh, yes?" He tilted her face up. "Like what?"

"How do you say 'take your clothes off' in drow?"

"I'm not telling you that," he protested. "From there it's only a short step to 'male, fetch me dinner and sharpen my sword and clean my armour and pleasure me until I can't stand'."

She laughed. "I like the last part of that."

"Oh?" His smile turned wicked, and he flipped her off him. As fast, he was above her, his hands framing her face. His weight kept her pinioned when he rolled his hips. "Do you?"

She laughed again, and when he claimed her mouth, fierce and wanting, she surrendered. Afterwards, they lay curled towards each other, with the sheets damp around them. When she floated close to sleep, Solaufein's fingers played gently through her hair, and she listened to the soughing of the desert wind at the open window.


	36. Trials

_As always, I owe many thanks to everyone who is following this story. I own very little. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Six – Trials**_

The wind keened between high rock shelves, and brought with it the swirling dust. The stone shimmered with the heat, and when the twisting magic of the portal faded, Kera gulped down a breath too quickly and coughed.

"Where is this?" Imoen murmured. "It's so empty."

Kera nodded slowly. She looked at the steep, sharp angles of the ravine, dry and hot. Overhead, the bright ribbon of the sky was fierce. She listened, and heard nothing beneath the wind. "Is this right?"

"I'm not sure," Jaheira answered. "Do you want to go back? Try again?"

"No," she said, and her voice bounced too loudly against the stone. "If we're meant to be here, then we stay here."

Sword drawn, she led them down the ravine. Wordlessly, Solaufein flanked her, his whole frame poised and his red eyes narrowed. The black edges of his armour seemed an odd, jarring cry against the sand-coloured rock. His shoulder brushed hers, and she let herself smile slightly.

For too long, the ravine stayed deserted. It coiled east and Kera followed it until the back of her neck was soaked with sweat and her feet felt too hot inside her boots. The glare of the sun turned punishing as the late morning swung into noon, and when they stopped beneath the welcome curve of an overhang, no one spoke.

Imoen leaned into the gloom and rested her forehead against the stone. Minsc passed out the waterskins, and Kera sank down onto her heels until Jaheira touched her shoulder and motioned her up again. She led them on, too aware of the grit and dust in her hair, around her eyes, in her mouth and her nose whenever she breathed. The morning in Amkethran seemed faraway, and idly, she let her thoughts linger on how she had stayed in the bathhouse with Solaufein until the water had cooled, until her fingers and feet had wrinkled. The hot, heavy silence pressed in on all sides, and even when she tried counting her footfalls, or listening to Solaufein's even breathing, or the slight jangle when he shifted his weapon belt, her skin prickled uncomfortably.

Underfoot, the stone became rough and chipped, and the path swept up and over the high crest of the cliffs on the lefthand side. On the far side, huge steps were hewn into the rock, and they wound down onto a flat, wide plain. There, the wind screamed, and winnowed the sand between the slender towers that rose up towards the blue spread of the sky.

"There," Jaheira said, and her voice sounded scraped and thin. "Balthazar talked about a fortress."

"All the way out here," Imoen muttered. "Why? What else is out here?"

Kera said nothing. She stared at the spearing tips of the towers, and wondered how much they hid, what lay in the stone beneath them.

"They'll see us," Valygar said. "Anyone who cares to glance this way will see everything."

"What else can we do?" Jaheira shook her head. "We need to be there, and there's no other way."

"Well," Haer'Dalis said. "I suppose if we walk into a hail of arrows, then at least we will know that _someone_ is in there, and that this delightful jaunt hasn't been useless, after all."

"You'll be going first, then?" Imoen elbowed him. "We could see how many arrows you can dodge."

"Your compassion warms me, my dear, as always."

"Why come here?" Imoen wondered aloud. "It's so far from anywhere. Even if all they wanted was to menace local merchants, it seems a lot of effort."

"I don't know," Kera said, very quietly. "I want Abazigal dealt with. I want to know who he is, and what he knew about Sendai and Yaga-Shura."

"You think he knew about them?"

"Probably. I don't see how he could not, not really. Yaga-Shura knew about Illasera. They're all here at the same time. At the right time."

"And our flame-haired temptress of a new friend knew of them _all_," Haer'Dalis said, and grinned. "Coincidence?"

"No," Kera said, and her voice stayed steady. "But I don't know what it _does_ mean. Not yet."

* * *

The towers were sun-bleached and pale, and the windowless stone shimmered in the heat. Walking beside Kera, Solaufein saw tall gates, and an arching span of stone above, and nothing moving. The wind plucked at his hair, and usually, he would have been glad of the distraction, of the play of it against his face. But here, the towers were still and silent, and the howl of the wind was loud enough that his ears rang.

The gates were closed, and before them stood a young man. He leaned back against the stone, and his arms were folded across his chest. Long dark hair framed the elegant angles of his face, and his eyes were pale and fierce.

"Strangers," the young man said, and his smile was thin. "Strangers crossing the desert. Why are you here?"

"We need to speak to Abazigal," Kera said.

"Do you? And why might that be?"

"There are things we need to discuss."

The young man's smile widened. "Such as?"

"Bhaalspawn," Kera said, coldly. "And why the merchants of Amkethran fear to travel with their goods."

"And so you come all this way? Whatever for? Why would you think we out here would have anything to do with Amkethran?"

"Abazigal," Haer'Dalis said lightly. "We have heard this name whispered in fear. It seems unnecessarily cruel that a place such as Amkethran would need to become a haven for those traders who have become afraid to travel these lands."

"Does it?" The young man's pale eyes narrowed, and he looked at Kera again. "Then why is it that Bhaalspawn follow in the wake of all this? Why is it that _you_ are here?"

The young man's hands dropped to his sides, and Solaufein noticed how pale and fine his fingers were. While the young man kept his gaze on Kera, he stepped forward and breathed in. He tasted the sun-baked stone, and the sand, and the metal and leather scent that he knew was himself. There was something else as well, something dry and strange, and he wondered what secrets the young man hid.

"We're here to see Abazigal," Jaheira said, and every word was granite-hard. "Take us to him."

"Take you to him? _You_, the servants of a Bhaalspawn?"

"What do you mean?"

"_You_," he said, and grinned again at Kera. "The Bhaalspawn from the north. Abazigal spoke of you. You are Kera, yes? Kera of Candlekeep?"

"Yes."

"Abazigal wishes nothing from you but your death."

"Oh, a _surprising_ revelation, indeed," Haer'Dalis remarked, entirely bland. "Perchance you could take yourself back to Abazigal and let him know that such a threat is neither original nor, well, particularly threatening? Leaving the door open after yourself would be a courtesy, you understand."

The young man's pale eyes glinted, and watching him, Solaufein felt the skin between his shoulders tighten. He was unarmed, and his hands were curled uselessly at his sides, and his entire stance was loose, uninterested.

"No," the young man said. "I don't think so."

Kera's sword lifted, a bright line. "Who are you?"

"I am Abazigal's son," he said, and spread his hands wide. "My name is Draconis."

A white tangle of energy spat from the young man's fingers, and Kera darted sideways. Solaufein followed, turning so that his shoulder shielded her. Sidelong, he saw the young man lazily raise his hand again, and the flame spell Imoen called hissed into nothing around him.

The girl tried again, and again, and Solaufein heard her crying out when her fourth spell sputtered into sparks. Minsc moved in front of her, and his mace swept against the Draconis' shoulder. The blow spun him around, and Solaufein leaped. His first stroke swept the young man's feet out, and Minsc's mace cracked hard against his chest.

"Minsc," Jaheira called. "Again! Keep him down."

The mace slammed against the young man's spine, and his head rolled back. Long dark hair spilled across the stone. Solaufein drove his sword into the young man's chest and saw how he still smiled, even as the blade dipped between his ribs.

"Wait," Jaheira said. "He's not…Solaufein, is he dead?"

"I don't know," he answered, honestly. He pulled the sword clear, and something very close to apprehension brushed him when he saw how little blood fouled the blade. "He's…I don't know."

He knelt, and heard Kera's murmured plea to be careful. He reached out to touch the wound on the young man's chest, and the white flash of a spell shoved him backwards. Half-blinded, he scrambled upright, dragging his sword with him. He heard the others, Minsc calling for Imoen, and Jaheira shouting for Kera.

Close by, he heard the shuddering, _tearing_ sound of something moving.

_Something big_, he thought, and backed away. He squinted, and saw nothing but the pale blur of the spell. Someone caught his wrist and hauled him around, and he stumbled against Haer'Dalis' slim shoulder.

"I can't _see_," he snarled.

"Stay behind me." The tiefling's touch melted away briefly, then clasped his other arm, guiding him away. "There."

"_Oh_," Kera said, and he heard her draw in a shuddering breath. "Oh."

Solaufein growled. He could smell it, dry and warm and coppery, and when he blinked enough that his vision cleared somewhat, he _saw_ it. Dark scales clung to a frame that was all solid muscle, and somewhere far above, the creature's head was narrow and shrewd. Above the open jaws, strange pale eyes burned. He had heard stories of such creatures, heard stories of how they flew and scorched the skies with their own flames and their own anger. He knew of the dragon that had lived in the caverns near Ust Natha, but he had never seen it.

The dragon flung its head back. Flame blazed between its teeth, and Solaufein felt the breath lock up in his throat.

"_Move_," Haer'Dalis snapped, and jolted him. "Keep moving!"

He saw that Minsc and Valygar were already behind the dragon, already sweeping their weapons against the columns of sinew that roped the back of the creature's legs. Minsc's mace drove relentlessly against the side of the dragon's shin, and the other ranger's sword arced in beneath, biting into thick scales.

Solaufein shook himself and cursed his own uselessness. He needed to be _doing_ something, not standing and staring and hoping the creature might not notice him.

Some pale rippling spell spiraled out from Imoen's hands, and when the dragon whirled to face her, Solaufein dived forward. His momentum carried him beneath the creature's claws, and he raked his sword along the underside of the swaying arms. The dragon hissed and spun. Another spell burrowed against its neck, white and crackling. He was aware of Kera on his other side, her sword held low and her face set. The dragon's claws swept against his shoulder, and he tried to twist under them again. The tips caught and dug in. He plunged his sword up and into the softer flesh between the claws. He ripped his sword clear as he fell, and heard the dragon howl.

The tail swung, and Minsc cried out when it knocked him off his feet. Jaheira's spear thumped into the creature's neck, and its jaws cracked together. Solaufein stumbled upright in time to see the fire in its mouth. Kera crashed into him, dragging him along with her, and the flames seared down behind them.

Haer'Dalis slipped past him, blood snaking down one side of his face. "My darkling," he murmured, a little unevenly. "Follow me?"

The dragon turned again, and the great arch of its wings snapped open. Another terrible gout of flame blackened the stone. The tiefling dived beneath the flickering claws, Solaufein a pace behind. He heard Jaheira shouting for more arrows, more spells, for Imoen to stay back.

Haer'Dalis drove his right-hand sword up until the point bit into the dragon's belly. Solaufein grinned and sank his own sword almost hilt-deep in the dark scales. The dragon shrieked and twisted away, and he yanked the sword free and matched the tiefling's hurtling pace. He bolted out into the open in time to see Minsc's mace slam against the back of the dragon's leg again. Bone gave way, and Valygar followed up, slicing his sword across the tendons beneath. The dragon swayed, and flame spilled from its jaws again. He could smell its blood, thick and metallic, and when it shuddered again, Valygar rammed his sword into the back of its other leg.

The dragon toppled, its wings folding in, and its head thrashing. As fast, Minsc was there, and his mace met its neck and then the side of its jaws.

A cold spell shattered across its heaving flanks. The dragon twisted, its claws flinging wide. Kera caught Imoen's arm and yanked her away, and the next spell arrowed too far to one side. Minsc's mace rose and fell and fell again, and Valygar and Jaheira joined him. The dragon's claws carved through the air, and Haer'Dalis ducked beneath them. His swords flicked up, both finding purchase against dense scales. Following him, Solaufein saw how the dragon heaved upright, how the claws tightened and swept down. He called the bard's name. Haer'Dalis whirled, a fraction too slow, and the claws raked across his chest.

The dragon's head lolled against the ground, and when Solaufein looked at it, he saw nothing past shattered teeth and blood, leaking in bright ribbons. Grimly, Valygar set about forcing his blade against the splintered neck bone, sawing the head away.

"Solaufein?"

He turned, and Kera ploughed into him, and her scent was thick with sweat and blood and dust. He wrapped an arm around her waist and let her lean into him.

"I'm alright," he said, roughly. "Are you hurt?"

"No. No, I don't think so." She kissed his chin. She stepped away from him, and her face paled. "Haer'Dalis?"

The bard was on his feet still, and when he sheathed his swords, he winced. His mouth opened, and he touched the spreading crimson patches on his chest. He looked at his dripping fingers and blinked. "Oh," he said. "I think that may be worse than I thought."

"Lie down," Jaheira said, firmly. She steadied him, and waited while he sank carefully onto his knees, and then onto his back. She splayed both hands over the tiefling's chest, and the blue glow of her healing spell sank into him. He hissed, and his eyes opened. "Stay still," she said, and caught his hand. "Stay still."

"Will he be alright?" Imoen asked.

"I think so."

"Then heal him," Kera snapped. "Heal him, and then we'll worry about getting inside."

Jaheira's mouth thinned, but she said nothing. While she called up another spell, and then another, Solaufein stared up at the stone bridges above. Nothing stirred; nothing made a sound beneath the keening wind.

"Anything?" Kera asked.

"No."

Carefully, Jaheira helped the tiefling upright, and he swayed. She caught his elbow and held on. "Alright?"

"Yes," he said, roughly. His face was chalky, and the strange markings that crossed his cheekbones and curled up around his chin seemed too sharp, too dark. "What, no admonishing lecture, my beautiful druid? No rebuke? I am worth so little now in your eyes?"

"You'll need to be careful," she retorted. "Your leathers are not in the best shape, and you've lost blood. There won't be any heroic moments in there, are we agreed?"

"Heroic?" He grinned, and when she let him go, his stance stayed steady. "My dear, there is heroism and there is stupidity, and sometimes, even _I_ get the two confused."

"You?" Kera said, and smiled. "Never. You're sure you're alright?"

"It will take more than the claws of a dragon to send me into the embrace of oblivion, my raven." The tiefling's dark eyes sparkled. "A dragon who is the son of a Bhaalspawn and indeed had the courtesy to tell us his name was Draconis. Well, my raven, never let it be said that your enemies are full of the creative fires when it comes to naming their offspring."

* * *

Kera waited while Minsc and Valygar shouldered the door open. Her hair was sticky with sweat, and when she tried to keep still, to keep herself poised, she found that she could not.

_I am Abazigal's son_, the young man had said.

Abazigal's son, who had been a dragon. She drew in a slow breath and closed her eyes. Bhaal's blood beneath the skin of a dragon, and she wondered what Abazigal might look like. _Another dragon_, she thought, another dragon who would not be young and careless and taunting. A dragon who might know his own power and his own gifts, and who might tear through them all as easily as a scythe through wheat.

Inside, the shadows clung to the stone, and she stopped. Beside her, Solaufein waited, his head tilted as he listened.

"Nothing," the drow murmured.

The corridor wove deeper, the gloom broken by the gently moving points of hanging oil lamps. Twice, the left-hand side opened out into small rooms, bare and blank. She reached out, touched the wall. Overhead, the stone roof slanted in lower and lower, and her shoulders tightened.

"Kera," Solaufein said, whisper-quiet. "Do you hear that?"

"What?"

"Water."

She halted again and tipped her head to the wall, strained to listen. She thought she heard it, the soft noise of water against rock, somewhere far away.

The corridor stayed deserted until it opened out through an archway, and the clamour and shrieking of the six men who charged to meet them was _almost_ a relief. She twisted past the first of them, and felt the tension melting out of her shoulders and her arms as she sliced her sword under his guard and into his stomach. More waited in the stone chambers beyond, and there were tall, twisting creatures, all plated scales and shimmering eyes and bearing tridents that flared bright with flames. She had seen them before, she was certain, in the tunnels beneath Athkatla, and in the strange realm that Lavok's planar sphere had nestled itself into. After the last of them fell, carved apart by Valygar, she heard it again, the rushing sound of water.

"Maybe there's a river down here," Imoen said. "Or a well? Has to be some way of making sure people don't die of thirst out here."

Kera nodded, and said nothing. Almost thoughtfully, she led through the far door, and when she touched the curving wall there, she found the stone ribboned with water. The air was heavy and dank, and made her think of how the small pond at Candlekeep had turned green and thick and sluggish at the height of the summer.

The passageway plunged down again, and the roof pressed in, low enough that Minsc had to hunch over, and Valygar and Haer'Dalis had to walk almost as carefully. Another archway led to a rounded chamber, and Kera frowned.

"Well," Imoen muttered. "That's not normal."

"No." Warily, she checked the walls again and saw no doors, no windows, no steps. Nothing save the blank curves of the stone, running with water. A pool rippled in the centre of the floor, and the oil lamps above it shot twisting reflections across its surface.

"This doesn't make sense," Imoen said into the silence. "How the hells did Draconis get himself to the doors outside? Did he swim? Fly down from the towers above?"

"There were no other doors," Valygar said. "Not at ground level."

"Well." Haer'Dalis knelt beside the pool. "It seems Abazigal's choice of domain might be less a fortress and more a maze full of water. How charming."

"Alright." Kera sheathed her sword. "I'll go. Jaheira, you'll come with me."

"And me," Imoen said, and added, "Of the two of us, I'm the one who can cast the spells, sister mine."

"If that's what you want."

"Kera," Jaheira said, sternly. "What exactly is this plan? Drop our weapons and dive in there and _hope_ we find our way to something?"

"What else can we do? This room…there's nowhere else to go. What else can we do, Jaheira?"

"You have no spells of your own," the druid said tersely. "Stay here. I'll go with Imoen."

The anger surged, hot and welcome. "_No_. Abazigal is _my_ brother." Someone grasped her wrist and drew her aside, and she glared into Solaufein's face. "What?"

He guided her across the chamber and away from the others before he let her go. Unruffled, he said, "This is not a good idea."

"What else can we do?" She pushed her knuckles against her eyes. "Can you swim?"

"Yes."

"In that armour?" she demanded, waspishly.

"If I had to."

"Perhaps," she said. "Stay with the others. At worst, we find nothing."

"And at best?"

"We find a way through, and we can work out how to move on from there."

"As you wish it," he said, and his voice was rough. "Kera?"

"Yes?"

He kissed her, desperately, his tongue plying her lips apart and his hands cradling the back of her neck. "Be careful," he said, and captured her mouth again. "I will wait for you."

She almost wanted to bury herself against him, hide her face against his neck until she could feel his pulse against her cheek. But she breathed in again and smelled it, the dampness and the stone, and she knew that Abazigal waited for her. "I will."

She pulled away from him, and pointedly ignored Imoen's smirk. She unbuckled her weapon belt and sword, and handed them across to Solaufein. She waited while Jaheira shed her spear, and Imoen passed her bow and quiver to the bard. Beside the pool, Kera knelt and slipped her hand into the water. It grabbed and pulled at her fingers. "Ready?"

"Ready," Imoen answered.

She let herself look at Solaufein, at the way his hair framed the ebony angles of his face. She dipped her hand in again, breathing in deeply and slowly, readying herself. She hesitated a moment longer, and then she swung herself over the edge and the water rushed into her ears.

* * *

Haer'Dalis sat with his legs crossed and silently concluded that, beneath the ruined disgrace that had been his leathers, his chest hurt. The dull, strange ache of pain that was not quite banished, of a mostly-healed wound that would offer proud scars sometime soon. But the druid's spells would be needed again, he was almost certain, and he knew he should not demand a potion, not since he could walk and wield his swords.

He leaned his head back and looked at the others. Looked at how Minsc sat, his tiny hamster companion curled on his palm, and his face creased into a soft smile. On his other side, Valygar paced. The drow crouched on the edge of the pool, poised and predatory, his sword in his hand.

He let the silence a heartbeat or so longer. "Do you see anything, my darkling?"

"No."

"Tell me, Minsc, my friend," Haer'Dalis said cheerfully. "How long is it you have spent watching our ladies throw themselves into dire danger?"

"They are not our ladies," Minsc said, and his finger slipped down the hamster's back, gently stroking. "One of them is Solaufein's lady."

The drow's head came up sharply, but he said nothing.

"Oh, I did not mean it like that, my friend. It simply occurs to me that more sane people would have walked away long ago." Haer'Dalis listened to the sound of the water at the edges of the pool, and his own breathing, a little too laboured.

_The strange fog in his thoughts lifted. He recognized the edge of the table, and the faded rug on the floor between his feet. Overhead, there would be the low arch of the roof, and the air all freighted with the tang of spent spells. He was _here_, and he wondered why. _

_ Miss Raelis, he thought. She had sent him for the gem. _

_ The gem. The wizard's gem. _

_ He remembered the spell, and how it had washed over him. _Him_, and he had been foolish and arrogant and assumed the wizard to own little strength and less power. But the spell had wrapped his limbs in those strange chains and kept him here, and the days had rolled past uncounted. _

_ "Haer'Dalis?" _

_ A woman's voice, and he did not know her. A young woman, he guessed, from the soft pitch. _

_ "Are you Haer'Dalis?" _

_ "Yes," he managed, with a tongue that felt encased in lead. He blinked again, rapidly, until the greyness vanished. "I am Haer'Dalis." The words were pale and thin and barely worth the effort, but every breath seemed to rake through his lungs, and his hands when he raised them were absurdly heavy. "Who are you?"_

_ "I am Kera," the young woman said. "Do you need to sit down?"_

_ "No," he lied. He looked at her then, saw how young she was, how her girl's frame was encased in leathers, how she held her sword with quiet confidence. She stared up at him with unremarkable brown eyes, and her face was one of angles and sleepless nights and missed meals. "Kera, is it? May I ask why you have had the fortune to stumble across me here?"_

_ Behind the girl's shoulder, a tall, broad-shouldered young man scowled. "We saved you." _

_ "We're here because Raelis Shai asked us to come after you," the girl said, in the same tone. _

_ "Miss Raelis?" He grinned. "Ah, yes. Very good. So, shall I join you as we return? Should I offer my services in thanks for a rescue rendered most timely?" _

_ "Oh, I don't know," the girl said, and her mouth curved into a smile. "I doubt she'd want me to steal you."_

_ "Honour bound and honour branded, is it? Ah, as you would have it."_

_ "We found these swords," the girl said. "Raelis said you carried two, and of strange make. Are these yours?" _

_ His fingers closed around the hilts when she passed them to him. He tested their well-known weight, and smiled. "Yes, these are mine." _

He stared at his own hands again, loosely wreathed. Past the drow, he saw the pool, and the rippling dark surface of it. There was little else to do, he knew, so he let his thoughts turn to the new song half-written on the parchment somewhere in his pack, and he waited.


	37. Gifts

_As always, thank you so much to everyone who is following this story. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Seven – Gifts**_

The water rushed and roared. Through narrowed eyes, she saw Jaheira somewhere ahead of her, lean and dark as she stroked forward. Beneath, everything was deep blue and blinding. Again, she reached up, and her fingers broke the surface and brushed against rough rock. No room to breathe, she knew, and she ignored the tightness in her chest and pushed herself forward. She kicked too sharply, and her heels snapped against the rocks. The blood pounded in her ears. She flung her hand up again, and when she encountered only air, she shoved upright. There was little space, still, and the water lapped at her mouth. She gulped down a ragged breath in the darkness.

"Oh, gods," Imoen muttered somewhere behind her. "This is horrible. Whose idea was this?"

"Less talking, more breathing," Kera said.

"That was a long stretch," her sister said. "What if the next one's longer?"

"Then go back," she snapped.

She hauled herself along, letting the current pull at her, and breathing slowly and steadily until the stone roof curved down again, and the space between water and rock vanished. She dived, pushing off with her feet, and the water tugged at her. Too fast, she was pulled against the wall. She flailed, and the back of her hand scraped against the rock. She twisted and tried to kick back out into the current. Close to panic, she stroked forward until her shoulders twinged and her head was full of the hammering of her own blood.

Slippery fingers wrapped around her wrist and yanked. Her head broke through the surface, and she spluttered. Her knees bumped the side, and she looked through running water at Jaheira, crouched on the side of the river, her head brushing the low curve of the rock. Small lanterns hung down, and tiny spots of light caught against the foam.

"Oh." Shivering, Kera scrambled over the side. "Sorry. I got confused. I didn't know which way was which, and I couldn't _see_ properly."

"It's alright."

The water churned again, and Imoen kicked up to the surface. Her bright hair was plastered against her head, and she blinked furiously. "I think I swallowed some."

"Try not to," Jaheira said, wryly, and heaved her out.

The corridor sloped up and away from the river, and Jaheira led them beneath the lanterns. Following, Kera was too aware of the heavy, sodden pull of her leathers against her shoulders, and the way her soaked braid snaked down her back. Through a low door, four guards waited. Jaheira called up a twisting tangle of vines and toppled them, and Imoen spun crackling energy to finish them, one after the other. Kera waited behind them, dagger in hand, and when the stink of charred skin and leather assailed her, she closed her eyes and breathed it in.

She chose one of the guard's dropped swords, paused while the others purloined their own weapons. Another two doors and a flight of stairs plunged down into the gloom. The last door was rusted and flaking, and beyond, the torches threw shadows across the bars of the cells that lined the room.

"A prison?" Imoen scuffed one foot against the floor. "All the way down here?"

"Yes," Kera said, absently. A place for prisoners to be lost, she thought, a place for prisoners to be sent to be forgotten. The air was heavy with the scent of old death, and in two of the cells, she saw dead men, thin and crumpled, their outflung hands twisted.

In the fifth cell sat another man, and when he lifted his head, his eyes were hollow. Beneath the ruins of old robes, his frame was whittled down to the sharp press of bone against his dusky skin.

"Can you hear me?" Jaheira knelt beside the bars.

The man's head turned, and his lips moved soundlessly.

"Here." She passed a waterskin through, and waited while the man fumbled with the stopper. He drank quickly and greedily, and the water ran in thick ribbons down his chin. "Now, can you tell me anything?"

"Balthazar," the man said.

Kera pushed past Jaheira. "What? What about him? What do you know?"

"You know him?" The man's gaze swung and pinned her. "You spoke to him?"

"He sent us here. Sent us to find Abazigal and kill him."

The man's lips stretched into a dreadful grin. "Abazigal. Have you seen him?"

"No. We saw his son. Draconis. He's dead."

The man laughed, thin and whistling. "Good. Good. Very good. Abazigal is worse."

"Yes," Kera said tersely. "What about Balthazar? How do you know him?"

"The monastery. I was at the monastery. I was one of his."

"You're a monk?"

"Yes."

"Please. Tell me about Balthazar."

"Sent us here. Lots of us. Others are dead. Killed. Others were sent out for the drow."

"Sendai?"

"Yes." His hands twisted and flicked against each other. "Her."

"She's dead," Kera told him.

"Good. Balthazar wanted her dead. And Abazigal. And Yaga-Shura."

"Yaga-Shura?" She studied his face, looked at the bruises on his neck and his cheekbones. "Why? Yaga-Shura threatened Saradush, not Amkethran. Yaga-Shura was very far away."

"Yaga-Shura was one of _them_," the man said, and his voice cracked. "One of those like the drow. Like the dragon."

"You mean the Bhaalspawn?"

"_Yes_," the man hissed. "Them." His hands wrapped around the bars, and he said, "The dragon. The dragon waits inside. You need to find the other river. The river that will take you up to where he is."

"How do we do that?" Jaheira demanded.

"With courage. He is very strong. Through this prison there is another door, and another pool. Through that, and through the water, you will find the cavern he lives in."

"Is it far?"

"Very far. You will need courage and luck, and you will have to fight the waters. You will not do it, girl. Not alone. Not like this."

_We're not alone_, she thought silently, and remembered how Solaufein had clasped her face between his hands. He had never kissed her like that in front of the others, she was certain, and she recalled the bruising ferocity of it, how his teeth had clicked and scraped against hers.

"The water," the man said, softly. "The water is treacherous. The current will pull you down. You must swim quickly and carefully. We made it through the tunnels, some of us. Some of us drowned. We used rope. There are things in the walls there."

"What things?"

"Things for torches. This place was not always flooded. Maybe Abazigal wanted it to be so. We put our ropes through these things."

"Is it still there?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe Abazigal's followers thought no one else would be stupid enough to come here."

Kera nodded slowly. "If we let you out, will you able to find your way out of here?"

"And go where?" The man's head lifted, and his eyes were shining. "I have been down here for so long now. They would find me. The only mercy I require from you, girl, is that you give me my own death."

* * *

Beneath the monastery, tunnels snaked through the earth. There, amid the stifling press of the heat, she sat with her back to the stone and watched the tumble of the motes in the air. The days ran into each other down here, and long past, she had stopped caring enough to count them. She could hear the ripples of the world around her, and in any case, it was peaceful down here, and the locked doors made him think she was trapped.

_Let him think that_, she thought. _Let him believe it. Let him come to regret it. _

She stared down at her hands, loosely clasped in her lap. Pale and slender and twined with faint blue veins. She lifted them to her face and listened to the low thrum of her blood.

She had felt it, days ago. Felt it when the drow Bhaalspawn had died, felt it as sharply as if the creature had gasped out her last breaths in this cell, on this floor.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and closed her eyes. Part of her wanted to be away from here, and out in that place that _was_ going to be hers. That place that was all darkness and stars and the trembling uncertainty of the sky above. The wind there smelled of forges and fires, and she remembered how it toyed with her hair. It was a place that was also a maze, and she loved walking its twisting paths. She enjoyed testing its puzzles and digging through its secrets, until the stone walls rang with her own laughter. When she let her mind wander there, the song filled her, the song that raged in _their_ blood.

Even down here, she felt them. Some days she felt the girl. She felt the girl's anger, and the girl's desire, and some days, she felt the girl and her drow lover. Not all quiet and stern, as she had pretended outside the broken walls of Saradush. No, on those days, she felt their hunger for each other, for the slide of his skin against hers, for the welcome brush of her hands on his body.

She remembered the day in the rain, when she had taken herself to the altar and waited, waited for the answer she had _known_ would come.

_She pushed aside the leaves, sodden and matted. The rain twined down her face and through her hair. She knelt, and whispered the first of her prayers. The second followed, falling in words that were tender and fierce and wanting. Slowly, she lifted her hand and carved a deep line along the inside of her forearm. As the blood fell, she watched, and she counted the droplets and saw how they fell. _

_ Something curled inside her thoughts, and she knew him. _

_ "Yes," she said, and touched the wet stone. She smiled. "I am here. I am here, as I said would be." _

Somewhere above, she heard doors opening, and footsteps. She combed her hands through her hair until it mantled her shoulders in bright, soft waves. She heard the key in the lock, and smiled when the monk stepped through. He was swathed in his robes, and his face was perturbed.

"You," he said, and he would not look at her, not properly. "Balthazar wants to see you."

* * *

Solaufein waited, still perched on the edge of the pool. He kept his eyes on the water and his hand on his sword hilt. They had not been gone _very_ long, but even so, his shoulders were rigid, and he tried to see through the dark ripples in the water. Somewhere behind him, the others were silent, even the tiefling, and he could hear the rhythmic snap and patter of the bard's fingers against the ground.

He wondered what they saw, in the water, under the ground. If they had stumbled into Abazigal's claws, and he briskly shoved that thought aside.

_Let your thoughts play tricks on you_, Jysdril had once told him, _and you have given your enemies half the battle before you ever lay eyes upon them. _

"This," Valygar said quietly, and knelt on the rim beside him. "This is like Spellhold."

He did not look at the ranger. "Why?"

"Waiting," the man said, and shrugged. "Waiting and not knowing. Never easy, is it?"

"No," he answered, and when he let himself glance at the ranger, he saw the man's dark eyes soften.

"Tell me, my friend," Haer'Dalis said, and jerked his chin at Minsc. "If we find it necessary to play at being fish, how will your little companion fare?"

"Boo will be fine," the big ranger said. "Boo is always fine. If we are alright, so will Boo be alright."

The silence returned again, cloaking and impatient. Solaufein counted the beats of his own heart and the way the water rippled against the side until the tiefling hopped upright and murmured, "Between the three of you, this sparrow might think that words were in danger of vanishing forever upon use."

"Better that than having them worn out by you and your chattering tongue," Valygar responded mildly.

"Perhaps, but this silence sits ill with me."

Solaufein agreed, but he could think of nothing to say. He narrowed his eyes at the pool, and thought he saw something moving, something blurred and dark. He shifted slightly, and tightened his grip on his hilt. He waited through another terse moment, and then found himself smiling slightly when Imoen hurtled up onto the surface, her mop of bright hair streaming water.

Kera followed, Jaheira behind her shoulder. He leaned down, grasped Kera's wrist and hauled her up onto the edge.

"You're not hurt?"

"No," she said, and blinked droplets from her eyelashes. She let him help her onto the stone floor beyond, and she leaned into him. Her body heaved as she gulped down air, and she pressed her forehead against his shoulder.

"Nice," Imoen muttered, and clambered out of the pool. "Seems I'll have to get myself someone to be all chivalrous to me since no one else seems to care."

"Child," Jaheira said wearily. "You can manage, I am certain."

"Well," Haer'Dalis said. "I for one am all agog, I assure you. Did you find anything?"

"We found a man," Kera said, and turned so that her hip was against Solaufein's, her arm around his waist. "A monk. He'd been sent there by Balthazar."

Solaufein listened as she told them of the river, and how the roof was too low to breathe for most of it, how the current swept and pulled. Jaheira explained the monk's presence, and how his fellows had drowned or perished in the cells or been killed.

"We can get through to Abazigal," Jaheira added. "Through the prison, he said. We'll be underwater most of the way."

"And the monk?" Valygar asked.

"He's dead," Kera answered softly.

"How?"

"I killed him," Jaheira said, sharply. "He asked for mercy. We offered him healing, food, a way out of his cell. He was nearly dead and that was all he wanted from us."

Valygar opened his mouth again, but the druid shook her head.

"No," she said. "We can argue this later if you wish. Right now, we need to decide how best to go about finding Abazigal."

When the druid turned again, and ordered Minsc to strip off his armour and bundle it across his shoulders, Solaufein walked Kera across the chamber. He touched the dripping ends of her braid, the pale skin beneath her eyes.

"I know, I must look terrible," she said, and smiled faintly.

"Just rather soaked."

"Drowned rat?"

He tilted his head. "What?"

"Never mind," she told him, and her smile widened slightly.

"Abazigal," he said, a little hesitant. "You truly think we can find him? Based on this man's words?"

"I hope so." She stepped closer, and slipped her arms around his waist. She turned her face to his, and when she kissed him, she tasted unlike herself. The river, he supposed, the water that was still clinging to the inside of her mouth.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"I missed you."

* * *

Kera knelt on the lip of the pool. _Abazigal_, she thought, and cupped one hand in the water. He was there, and he was Bhaalspawn, and all she needed to do was wait until the others were readied, and she could set about the business of finding him and ridding the world of him. She looked up, and watched while Valygar lashed a length of rope around his sword and the tiefling's blades. Nearby, Haer'Dalis shook his head and remarked, "I had never quite imagined that a possible fate for my beautiful swords might be at the bottom of an underground river."

Valygar grunted, and tested the weight with one hand. "Then I'll try not to drown, I promise."

They would string the weapons between them, she understood, and she tried not to let her thoughts linger on how easily such a plan could go wrong.

"Kera?" Solaufein's fingers brushed the back of her head. "You are ready?"

"Yes. How are you carrying your sword?"

"In my hand, sheathed."

"Is that wise?"

"If it is at my waist, it will drag."

"Across your back?"

"I have done this before," he said, slightly wry. "There are more than a few rivers and lakes in the Underdark, surfacer girl, and usually, I did not even have the option of leaving my sword behind."

She nodded, and realised that she had barely heard him. Beneath her skin, her blood was thrumming. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"In there, if I…if," she said, and stopped. She looked into his face, into his beautiful, unsmiling eyes. "Will you help me?"

"I will be there," he said. "I will help you, should you need it."

She nodded again, and found his hand. She pressed his fingers against her forehead.

"Are you afraid?"

"No," she answered, honestly. "And I think that makes it worse."

* * *

The water swirled and pulled at her. She kicked off from the wall again, and when the current swept her on, she let it. This time, the water carried her easily and well, and when she reached out a hand for the side, she hauled herself out quickly. Impatiently, she waited while the others climbed up behind her. Solaufein emerged, following Haer'Dalis, and his white hair was flattened against his head. Water ran in gleaming ribbons down the slope of his cheeks, scattered from the tips of his ears. She caught his hand and squeezed, and afterwards, she led them on.

Through doors and down into the prison again, where the air was sharp with the monk's death. She remembered how Jaheira had nodded, heavily, how she had asked the monk to step closer.

_"I'll do it."_

_ "Why?" Imoen asked. _

_ "Because…" Jaheira's dark eyes flicked to Kera. "Because I think it would be wiser this way. If you are certain?"_

_ The monk nodded. "Thank you, my lady, for this." _

_ Kera bit the inside of her cheek and said nothing, and when the dagger flashed and the monk sighed out the last of his life, she turned away. _

Past the last door, the corridor opened out into another stone chamber, and the pool there rippled. Without speaking, Kera vaulted over the side. She sank beneath the surface and trailed her hands along the underside of the edge until she found the tunnel opening. Further in, her fingers bumped metal, and the tight coil of a rope.

"Down here," she said, when she surfaced again. She swiped loose hair away from her eyes, and without waiting, she turned and dived.

Beneath her, the water was deep and almost black, and the surging current was insistent. She rolled onto her back, hooked her hands around the rope, and let it take her. When her head thumped, she kicked up until the water parted around her lips, and she gulped down a quick breath. Inches above, blank stone dripped, and somewhere behind, she could hear the roiling water.

_Abazigal_, she thought.

Hand over hand, she hauled herself through. Overhead, the water turned pale, and she dragged herself up. She blinked through wet eyelashes and saw the scooped-out hollow of the roof, and the edge of the pool. She scrambled out onto flat ground, and damp, warm air met her. The others followed, and when Valygar paused to check the chamber, she wanted to snarl at him to move on, move faster, _now_.

Imoen coughed, and rubbed at red-rimmed eyes. "I am never coming here again."

Kera said nothing, only quartered the room. When Jaheira nodded, she stalked up the corridor and into the dank gloom. Small lanterns hung along the walls, and water ran between them, thick and shining.

Jaheira caught her arm, and muttered, "Slow down."

"He's here," she responded, and jerked herself free. "He's here. Come on."

She marched under another archway, and saw how the stone sloped up. Strange markings were hewn into the roof there, twisting shapes that spiraled down high pillars. He was _there_, she _knew_ he was there, and when she strode between the pillars, she saw him. He was clad in the shape of a man, a tall man, and his eyes were deepest blue and implacable.

"Ah," Abazigal said, and smiled. "You are here, finally."

"Your son is dead."

Something flared in his eyes, something angry. "Draconis?"

"Dead," she repeated. She eased her sword from its scabbard, and added, "He died quickly. We hacked his head off afterwards to make sure."

She heard the others behind her, careful footsteps against the stone. Someone brushed her elbow, and Jaheira flanked her other side.

"You are foolish," Abazigal said. "You think you walk upon Alaundo's words, do you? Someone else is writing your part for you, and you follow only because the blood of our father calls you to kill."

"Who?"

"Does it matter? The children of Bhaal bring death to the land," he said, and each word rang sharp. "Does it truly matter? You are Kera of Candlekeep. You are Gorion's ward, and you are here for no other reason than that our blood is the same and calls us to kill."

"No," she said, and her own voice seemed very far away. "There are…no. I could stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked, and stepped forward. His eyes glittered, and he added, "Bhaal's return? How?"

"I don't know."

"Foolish child. You could no more flee Bhaal's return than you could run from the night sky." He lifted his hands, and something crackled between them, some pale tangle of energy. "You think because you have slain many of our brothers and our sisters that you will prevail?"

"_Yes_," she snarled.

"Even if you do, what happens then? Nothing, save Bhaal's eventual return, and you will become what you were always meant to be. We are vessels, child. We are _his_."

She fought to find words, her voice, anything. Her throat closed up, and she threw herself at him. She heard him laugh, and then her mouth was full of the scent of his blood when her sword sank hilt-deep in his stomach.

Abazigal twisted and heaved her away, and she rolled hard against the floor. His blood was bright on her sword. His smile widened, and the outline of his shoulders buckled and blurred. He was blue, and the vast wings that unfurled from his back were deep and gleaming. Claws raked against the floor, and she looked up and up again as he _changed_.

"Spells," Jaheira shouted. "Imoen! Spells, _now!_"

Something white and brittle snapped past Kera's head, shattered against the dragon's shoulder. Arrows followed, and a hissing tangle of energy sizzled against the span of one wing. There were footsteps as well, and Haer'Dalis calling for Solaufein to stay beside him, and the druid again, ordering Imoen to keep well away.

They were loud, all too loud, and Kera's head rang with their voices. _Why_, she wondered. _Why could they not simply leave her to her business with Abazigal? _

One huge clawed fist rose and fell towards her. She lifted her sword, and watched as the blade clanged against thick scales. She twisted, digging the point in between the huge bones of the dragon's wrist. Something hurtled past her, and she thought she recognized Haer'Dalis, his swords bright and flickering as he wove beneath the dragon's lunging claws.

They were still shouting, shrieking for her to move. Someone grabbed at her arm and wrenched, and she stumbled. Arrows whipped past her, one clipping too close. She shoved away from the insistent, grasping hands.

"Abazigal!" She stared up at the dragon, and when the wings cracked open again, she did not move.

The dragon spun, the tail scything out. Someone screamed, and footsteps hammered against the stone.

"Kera! Kera, move! Now!"

She _knew_ that voice. Of course she knew that voice, but when she searched for his name, her memory betrayed her. There seemed little else to do, so she turned away. She looked up through the livid flare of some spell and saw Abazigal's head, all narrow lines and flared crest and ice-blue eyes. She felt it, her blood, herself, _hers_. She reached into herself and let it flood her, let it burn through her until her skin prickled and her throat was full of her own laughter. Hands came down on her shoulders again, and an accented male voice snapped, "Kera. Come with me. You have to."

She ducked out of his grasp. She looked up again, and saw nothing but the dragon's open mouth as it leaped for her. She pivoted to one side, and drove her sword into the underside of the dragon's jaw.

Abazigal roared. She worked the sword in deeper, and the sudden gush of his blood across her hands made her smile. Somewhere close by, she heard the rhythmic sound of something solid smacking against scales, and someone else's weapons sliding into flesh. Huge claws lifted and flailed towards her, and she ignored them. She shifted the angle of the sword until the tip broke through into the dragon's mouth.

"Kera!"

The same hands on her shoulders, gloved. His voice was different, this time, choked and strange. She wondered why and supposed someone would tell her, later. She felt the tremors in the dragon's great, sprawled form, and the hot, blood-rich breaths against her face were shallow. His death was not swift, and she felt it as it took him, breath by shuddering breath. The dragon's head crashed down, and the blue eyes rolled. She dragged her sword free of his ruined mouth. Kneeling, she touched the dripping scales. She closed her eyes and somewhere inside herself – inside that _thing_, that awareness, Bhaal's strength – the anger rose up and swallowed her.

Abazigal was dead, and by her hand, and it was good.


	38. Threshold

_First off, a very big thank-you to everyone who's been following this story. Also, this chapter is rather long, but there didn't really seem to be a natural break before the end of it. The next chapters will return to being somewhat shorter. As always, reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Eight – Threshold**_

_Above Baldur's Gate, the stars burned bright and fierce. She idled in the courtyard, away from the thronged crowd inside. Forgotten, her glass lay on the wall beside her. The stupid, pointed shoes had been kicked off half the evening ago. Inside, it was far too loud, all full of bright crystal and the shining points of the candles and the whirl of the dancers. _

_ "Kera? Kera, that you out there?"_

_ She heard Imoen call out again, and heard the drag of her friend's dress hems against the ground. _

"_Over here."_

_ "You're hiding?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "Not fair." Imoen grinned. Her hair was heaped up on her head and woven through with small jewels, and her face was flushed. "Khalid and Jaheira are all over each other in there." _

_ She smiled. "I think it's sweet."_

_ "You would." Imoen shifted awkwardly for a moment, and blurted, "Can I ask you something?"_

_ "Course you can."_

_ "Sarevok," her friend said. "What did it feel like? When you killed him?"_

_ "It didn't feel like anything," she lied. "I cut his throat and he died. I was exhausted. I just wanted to get out of there."_

_ "Oh." Imoen toyed with the teardrop glitter of her earrings. "It's just…we've been after him for so long."_

_ "I know."_

_ "I just thought…" She shrugged. "Part of me liked watching him go down. He'd done so much to us, and part of me liked seeing him die." _

"Kera. Kera, can you hear me? Kera?"

There was blood on her hands and her face, and she felt it as it cooled. Abazigal's blood, and she smiled. Someone spoke again, and his voice was lilting and musical, and not the voice she wanted to hear.

"My raven, can you hear me? Kera?"

Fingers brushed her chin, turning her head. The fog in her eyes resolved into a man's sharp features, his cheeks and chin slashed with strange markings. She _knew_ him, and she wrestled for his name. "Haer'Dalis?"

"Yes," he said, and smiled. "Good. Are you with us, my raven? Are you here?"

"Haer'Dalis," she said again. She squinted at him, at how his face seemed to ripple.

"My raven," he said, sternly. "Look at me. You need to look at me, my raven. Some of us are hurt, and we need you to be yourself."

"Hurt?"

"Kera." He frowned, and he caught her hands. "Come with me."

"No, I…" _Abazigal_, she thought. She needed to stay there beside him and feel the cold as it took him, as the last drop of what made him Bhaalspawn left him. "I can't, I…"

"You _need_ to come back to yourself, my raven," he said, and jerked her forward. "Solaufein is waiting for you." When she gathered herself to shove away from him again, he held on and snarled, "You are better than this. I have seen it. I have seen it in you, and I will _not_ let you fall into this. Not now."

_Solaufein_, Haer'Dalis had said. _Solaufein_, and she remembered, blade-bright and just as painful. He had been near her and beside her and he had _tried_ to keep her safe. She recalled the dragon's claws, and how they had swept down upon her, and she had…she had what?

_She had ignored them. She had stood there, and supposed her blood might help her. _

Haer'Dalis led her away from the dead dragon, across the blood-slick ground. She saw the others and felt the weight of their eyes on her, and wondered what it was she had done. Jaheira knelt beside Minsc, and her hands glowed as she murmured a healing spell. The big ranger's mail was all askew, and the weathered planes of his face were waxen. Beside him, Valygar cradled his arm, and one side of his neck was plastered with blood.

Solaufein leaned against a pillar, his arm braced and his hair hanging in thick handfuls on his shoulders.

She had pushed him away, she recalled. While the dragon had towered above her, she had pushed him away, and wanted him nowhere near.

"Solaufein," she said, and his name tasted strange on her tongue. "I'm so sorry. I didn't…I'm sorry."

He nodded silently. She noticed his stiff stance, the way he was hunched against the pillar.

"Solaufein," she said again, and cold panic unreeled through her. "What happened?"

"I'm fine."

"You're not." She touched his shoulder, and he flinched. "Solaufein. Look at me. I can't see…" Her fingers bumped across the buckles near his stomach, and he winced. She pushed further, and felt the wet, hot flow of blood just beneath his ribs. "Oh. Gods. You're hurt. You're _very_ hurt."

His mouth moved. He leaned against her, and when his knees gave way, she fought to hold him upright.

"Jaheira! Jaheira, please?"

"I'm here," the druid said. "I've got him. Help me lie him down."

She did, and when the drow was supine, she saw how long the awful gash was, how it split the line of his body between his ribs and his belt. "Oh. Jaheira. I don't…"

"Just hold him," Jaheira snapped. She waved Haer'Dalis over. "Healing potions, as many as we have. _Now_."

Kera stared down at him, saw how the blood was pulsing out of him. She stroked his cheek. "He's hot. He's too hot."

Jaheira slipped a hand behind his head. When the tiefling passed across the first potion bottle, she jammed it into his mouth and upended it until he swallowed. "Good," she said. "Come on. Another one."

He obeyed silently, his throat convulsing. Kera buried her hands in his hair. His scalp was feverishly warm, and sweat thickened the hair behind his ears.

"Haer'Dalis," she said, and her voice came out sandy and dry. "What happened? Tell me the truth."

He passed another bottle to the druid, and answered, "When you stood there waiting for Abazigal to scoop you up in his claws, yon darkling threw himself into the breach, as it were."

"He…?"

"He made it, to begin with," the tiefling said, mercilessly. "While you were carving apart our blue dragon friend's jaw, yon darkling contended with his claws."

She swallowed. Her stomach clenched, and she pushed her fingers through Solaufein's hair again and again. His chest heaved unevenly, and desperately she thought, _I'm sorry. _

"He needs rest," Jaheira said tersely. Another bright, sputtering spell sank into the drow's prone body. "Rest and more healing later."

"Should we get his armour off?"

"Not yet. I don't want to risk opening the wound again. That armour of his won't come off easily or quickly." Jaheira's expression stayed guarded, and she said, "Can you call us a portal to get us out of here?"

"I…" She gritted her teeth, and when she thought of it, thought of Amkethran and how they needed to be away, nothing answered. Beneath her skin, her blood was hot and raging and she _could not_. "I can't."

"Can't?"

"I can't," she repeated, and hated the prickling guilt. "I'm sorry. I'm tired. I can't."

"You're tired," Imoen said heavily. "Solaufein was bleeding his guts out."

"I _know_."

"We're all hurt. We're _all_ tired."

"I know," she snarled again. "I just…I reach for it, and it's not there. It's…you know when you're worn out and you try to pick something up and you just _can't_? It's like that."

"Will it come back?" Imoen asked.

"I don't know." She sought for something else to say, anything else. Under her fingers, Solaufein's ebony skin was dappled with sweat, and his eyes were half-closed. Almost without thinking, she said, "You do it."

"I can't."

"Try," she said viciously. "We are _meant_ to be sisters, aren't we?"

"That's not fair."

"Then the next time we have to kill one of our siblings, _you_ can do it," she said. It was childish and it was angry and it was deliberate, and she no longer cared. "You can fight them, and see how well _you_ do."

Imoen scowled, and she turned away.

"Kera," Jaheira said, very gently. "Solaufein needs to rest, and so do you. Try and get some sleep, and when you feel able, you can take us back."

"Aren't you going to tell me what an awful mistake I made?"

"Would it help?" Jaheira asked pointedly. "You need calm and rest more than you need my voice, I think."

"You'll watch him?"

"Of course I will." She clasped Kera's wrist and guided her away from the drow. "I'll tell you if anything changes. Likely all that will is that he'll be properly resting."

Kera nodded, and wordlessly, she crossed the chamber and sat with her back against a pillar. She unbuckled her sword belt and curled onto her side, and she lay there and listened to the roaring of her blood in her ears.

* * *

Much later, she sat beside him while the others slept and Valygar stood on watch near the high curved archway. The light from a single lantern made the shadows dance, and ran in soft lines over the buckles on her boots. She stared at the pale blue potion bottles and the lifeless curl of the drow's hands. His chest rose slowly, and when she touched his cheek, his skin was cool.

His head turned beneath her hand, and he murmured her name.

"Oh. _Solaufein_." She gulped down an unsteady breath. She wanted to burrow into the crook of his shoulder, or wrap herself around him. "You're…_are_ you alright?"

He shifted slightly. "Sore."

"I know."

"Is everyone else..?"

"Fine," she said. "Everyone else is fine now."

His fingers found her wrist, and he tugged her closer. "Lie beside me?"

She rolled onto her side, and for a long moment, she simply looked at him, looked into the severe angles of his face. "I was so worried about you."

"Me?"

"Yes. You," she said, and the word caught in her throat. "You were bleeding so much."

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't mean it like that." Her eyes brimmed, tired and unbidden, and she scowled.

"You're crying."

"I'm not."

He touched the wetness at the corners of her eyes. "Did you forget that I can see in the dark?"

"I think so."

His hand lingered against her face. "Please don't."

"What? Think?"

"Cry," he said, in an odd, strangled tone. "Not about this."

She buried her face against his shoulder and closed her eyes until the thickness in her throat melted. "I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"I lost myself."

"It was not your fault."

"No? Then what was it?"

His fingers played down the slope of her cheek. "These words you talk about. This man's prophecy."

"Alaundo."

"Yes. His words and this blood of yours are doing this."

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

She did not lift her head from his shoulder. "Was I very different in Suldenessellar?"

"A little." His thumb brushed her lips. "You are still yourself. You are afraid, but you are still yourself, and you are still strong."

"You could have been killed."

"I'm a drow," he said, wryly. "We don't give into death all that easily, whether it comes by the knife of an assassin or the claws of a dragon."

She laughed, and the gulping relief of it tore through her. "You're also arrogant."

"We're supposed to be, surfacer girl."

"Very funny. I'm still sorry."

"Kera."

"How do you feel?" She shifted away from him slightly. "Really?"

"I will be fine." When she did not smile, he wound a loose sheaf of her hair between his fingers and murmured, "Kera. I have been hurt many a time. I am still breathing."

She wanted to apologise until her throat was raw, but she had said it once, more than once, and she supposed he was right. "I thought…I don't know what I thought. I thought it would be easier than this."

Solaufein said nothing, only curved his fingers beneath her chin. His other hand lingered against the side of her neck, over the wild fluttering of her pulse, and she let herself drift into that strange stillness, somewhere between dreams and waking.

* * *

The moon was rising over Amkethran, and the dark ribbon of the sky above was star-studded. Few lights gleamed at the tavern, and the night-time air was delightfully cool. Kera stared down at some point between her feet when Imoen walked past her, and she barely heard the others bidding her goodnight, or Haer'Dalis' acidic tone when he asked if they could delay a while before offering their news to Balthazar.

Inside, Jaheira paused long enough to check Solaufein's wound. She marshaled another round of healing spells and left him two more potion bottles, along with stern instructions to use them in the morning if needed.

"Kera," Jaheira said, her voice entirely neutral. "Get some rest."

When the door closed on the druid's heels, Kera pressed her knuckles against her eyes and murmured, "Why is she being so nice to me?"

"Shouldn't she be?"

"Jaheira has always been able to make me feel as if I'm five years old with a single look," she said, wryly. "It makes me even more suspicious when she _doesn't_."

"She wants you safe."

"I know."

"Kera," Solaufein said, and she turned into the welcome circle of his arms. His mouth against hers was soft. She ran her hands over him, heard his low, appreciative chuckle when she leaned in to kiss the dip just above his collarbone, and the hollow of his throat. Somewhere between the window and the bed they lost their clothes. She touched his chest and his sides, and found the wound closed, the skin around it cool.

"Good," she said, and smiled. "You'll have a nice new scar there, but Jaheira's done well with it."

"I am fine."

"Solaufein, I'm so sorry."

"Stop this," he said, gently. "We are both here, still. That matters, yes?"

"Yes, it does," she answered, and tugged him down beside her. "Come here."

He did, scooping her against him so that they were against each other, skin to skin and silent. She pressed her hands against the small of his back, and the fierce, quiet pleasure of it, of _him_, was almost enough to make her forget.

* * *

Solaufein stirred, and wondered why. His shoulders and his legs ached, and he was aware of the knitted line of the wound, the flesh there warm and smooth. No first touch of light showed through the curtains, and the air against his bare skin was hot.

Beside him, Kera rolled over, and her hand clenched around his wrist.

"Kera?" He buried his face against the unreeled spill of her hair. She did not smell right. Beneath his hands, her heartbeat galloped, and the icy sweat that clung to her filled his mouth with the taste of metal. "Kera, can you hear me? Kera?"

She said nothing, and even when he patted her shoulder, even when he called her name again, even when he gave in and shook her, she did not wake.

He swung his feet onto the floor. Cradled against him, she was an ungainly sprawl of limbs, and her head lolled into the crook of his elbow. He checked her breathing again, and the pulse points at her wrists and her throat. He pushed upright and quartered the small, stifling room twice. She often slept poorly, and he _knew_ that some nights, if he shifted too far, she stirred and reached for him. Other nights they stayed entwined, pressed close enough that he could feel the small changes in her heartbeat against his chest.

Solaufein sat with his back to the wall and arranged her across his lap. She was pale, paler than she should have been, since he knew that the nighttime warmth of the bed sheets made her flush, made her cheeks and her neck turn softest red. This was like the first time, he knew. The time she had fallen into her father's realm, after the ambush on the road. Other times, the woman made of light had spoken to her in dreams, dreams that were closer to visions; but even so, she had been freed at the end of them.

_What_, he wondered, _what did she face there, to have her so waxen and soaked in her own sweat? _

He simmered through another moment of indecision, and when she twisted wordlessly against him, he stood. Very gently, he laid her on the bed. He pulled his leggings and his boots on, buckled on his belt and sword. In her pack he found the big, patched shirt she said she once used to sleep in. Carefully, he eased it on over her trembling shoulders, tugged it down until it reached the middle of her thighs.

He checked the corridor, found it empty. He scooped her into his arms again and tried to ignore the anxiety that was clawing at him.

"Jaheira?" He shifted Kera against his shoulder, knocked at the door again. "Jaheira? Imoen? It's Solaufein. You need to wake up." He knocked a third and fourth time, and snarled, "It's about Kera."

The door was yanked inwards, and he looked into Jaheira's eyes, narrow and dark. "What's happened?"

He stepped past her, noticed Imoen, leaning up on the bed near the window. "It's like when Illasera ambushed us. She's not here."

"She came back last time," Imoen said. Her hands twisted nervously as she lit the candles. "Didn't she?"

"Yes," Jaheira said. "How is this different?"

"She's shaking," Solaufein said. "She's sodden with sweat and she's cold. Sometimes she moves. It's…" He shook his head. "It's different. It feels different."

"Let me see her."

For an awful, angry instant, he did not want to let go of her. She was lost, and he could do nothing, nothing at all. He gritted his teeth and laid her down on the bed. Jaheira leaned over her, touching her throat and her cheeks, her wrists, softly pressing her eyelids back.

"She's simply not there. Not in herself."

"Then why is she shaking?"

"I don't know," Jaheira said, and her voice wavered. "I'm sorry, Solaufein. I don't…I wish I knew. I don't."

* * *

Kera dug her fingertips against the rock and felt her own heartbeat somewhere deep within. This place would answer to her, Sarevok had said, and what cause did she have to disbelieve him?

He was her brother, after all.

"I know you're there," she said, and did not turn. "Come to tell me some more riddles?"

"Child," came the reply, stern and swift. "What is it that you feel?"

"Better. I feel better."

"Abazigal's death clings to you, child. You reveled in it, just as you did in Sendai's."

Kera swung round and snapped, "You said last time that you are not here to reprimand me. You're only here to show me, isn't that right?"

Above the elegant slope of the woman's shoulders, her wings blazed. "Look, then, Child of Bhaal, and remember."

_The grass of Candlekeep, all blackened and bristling against her bare feet. _

Bare feet_, she thought, and shook herself. She had been in the glass jar, the big glass jar in Spellhold, and Irenicus had smiled._

_ She looked up and at the charcoal sky, and knew that this was not Candlekeep, not really. This place was all full of strange hot winds. Between the small bridge and the long flowerbeds, the ground was gone, and the darkness there glittered with stars. _

_ She saw him then, and his voice filled her head. _

_ "I am the blood. I am the instinct." _

Kera jerked away, shaking her head until her vision cleared. "What's your point?"

"You resisted it then," the woman said. "You kept it from you. You kept _him_ from you."

"I had no other choice."

"And now?"

"I…I don't know." The truth spilled from her lips, trembling. "I don't know. I didn't want it to happen like that. I nearly lost them…I nearly lost Solaufein."

"Solaufein," the woman said, and her head tilted. "You have spoken this name before."

"I nearly…I was so stupid." She drove her knuckles against her eyes, and whispered, "If it's this hard, how am I supposed to keep it from myself?"

"You told me you do not wish Bhaal's return," the woman said, and her voice rose. "Is that true, still?"

The word lodged in Kera's throat, and she spat it out. "Yes."

* * *

The candles were melting, and Imoen was aware of the scratch of the blankets against her neck. Strange, she thought, strange to be all terse and waiting in the fluttering shadows while Jaheira checked her sister's pulse again, while Solaufein sat rigid and cross-legged at the far end of the bed.

"When did it start?" Jaheira asked.

"I don't know. We went to sleep, and she woke me when she thrashed."

Imoen looked at the drow again, at how the candlelight spilled across his shoulders and down the muscled lines of his chest. He was poised and still, barely seeming to move even when he breathed.

"Solaufein," Jaheira said, softly. "If I go downstairs to find some food and water, will you be alright here?"

The drow nodded.

Jaheira tied back the wild mane of her hair and pulled on her boots. She looked briefly to Imoen before vanishing into the corridor outside.

"Solaufein?"

The drow looked up, and said nothing.

Imoen kicked the blankets away from her feet. "She'll be alright."

"Yes."

She hopped up onto the bed beside her sister, watched the fast, rapid jerks of her breath. "I want her to be alright."

"Yes." He brushed the back of his hand against Kera's cheek, and Imoen noticed how finely his ebony fingers were built. "I did not think this would happen again. Not like this."

"I didn't mean," Imoen began, and stopped. "After she killed Abazigal. I was angry. I shouldn't have been."

"So was she." Solaufein's voice roughened, and he added, "She was so tired. She didn't even want a bath."

* * *

"Child," the woman said again, and her voice rang in Kera's head. "Worse waits for you. If you mean to prevent Bhaal's return, and if you mean to resist all the callings of your blood, you must face it."

"Face _what?_" She spun away. Her hands flew to her hair, her belt, her face. "I've killed my siblings. How many more do you want me to kill? What is it that you need me to do? Go somewhere in this place and find Bhaal and drive a sword through _his_ neck as well?"

"This blood that is yours. It will lead you to lose yourself, and you know this. You have come too close, child, already."

"Then _show_ me," she said. "Show me what I need to be shown before I _do_ start losing them."

"Losing them?" The woman's mouth creased. "Tell me, child. Losing who?"

"Losing my friends. Losing Imoen. Losing _Solaufein_."

"This, child," the woman said, and raised a milk-white hand. Something moved in the greyness, something with a shape that she half-knew. "This is something that your sire once was. Something that he could _be_."

"No, that…that's," she said, and shook her head. She tried again, and the words failed. She _knew_ what it was, as it came sliding out of the shadows, as its thick claws cut and dragged against the stone floor. The blood in its tall, jagged frame roared like storm-surf, and she felt it. She looked up and into its eyes, copper and full of rage.

"This, child," the woman said, relentlessly. "This is the thing in your blood. The thing that has always been there. This is something of Bhaal's."

* * *

The night crawled on, and Solaufein was aware of the deep ache at the base of his spine. He shifted slightly, and heard Imoen draw in a slow breath. He supposed she would speak again, ask him something casual and unimportant. She was worried, and he could see it in her eyes and the way her small hands twisted on the covers.

"Solaufein?"

He lifted his head.

"Aren't you at all uncomfortable?"

"A little."

"You could move," she said, and straightened up. When he did not reply, she murmured, "Stubborn drow. Distract me? Talk to me?"

"We've had this conversation before."

Imoen laughed, uneven and almost shrill. "Very funny. At least you're talking more this time."

The door opened, and Jaheira stepped inside again. She passed a laden tray to Imoen and ordered, "Eat. Now. You look terrible."

"I'm fine."

"Eat something."

Solaufein heard the girl making some plaintive remark, and the druid's sterner reply. He ignored them and kept his gaze fixed on Kera's face. Beneath closed, blue-veined lids, her eyes rolled. He held one hand a hairsbreadth above the side of her neck and felt the heat in her, the heat that seemed to pulse beneath her pale skin.

Kera screamed. Without thinking, Solaufein pulled her against his chest, one hand sliding into her hair, the other around her waist. "Kera," he whispered into her ear. "Wake up. Please wake up. I'm here. _I'm here._"

She twisted against him blindly. Her fingers caught and clawed at his shoulders.

"She's…" Jaheira shook her head. "You have to let go of her."

"No."

"Solaufein, you have to."

"_No_."

She thrashed again, and the coppery scent of blood filled his mouth and his nose. It was _her_, her skin and her breathing and the way her fingers plucked at his shoulders.

"Solaufein!" Jaheira grabbed at his arm. "She's changing. I think she's changing."

_Changing,_ he thought, and something cold crawled through his belly. _Changing_, like she had in Spellhold, and he remembered how she had spoken of it, the horror of it. He had seen Irenicus wear the Slayer's shape, and he knew how terrible it was.

"Imoen, get out of here. Find the others. Warn them, and do _not_ let them come in."

"But, Jaheira, they'll…"

"I don't care how you do it. Get Haer'Dalis to help you. He can talk the other two down."

Imoen dithered, her eyes flicking to Kera again. "Jaheira, no, I can…"

"Now," Jaheira snapped. When the door crashed shut on the girl's heels, the druid said, tersely, "Solaufein. You _have_ to let go. She'll hurt you."

"She won't."

"Listen to me," she said, quiet and fierce. "If she does, I do not want to have to explain to her later that it was _her_. She's not herself. She's _not_ Kera right now, and you need to let her go."

He said nothing. She was right, he _knew_ she was right, but even so, he ached.

"Solaufein. Solaufein, please." Jaheira grasped his wrist. "Please."

He nodded, and let her guide his hands away until Kera was flat on her back, her head flung back and her fingers splayed.

"Draw your sword," the druid said, quietly. "Stay away from her."

"And if it happens?"

"If you see it start to happen, knock her unconscious."

"She _is_ unconscious," he said, and heard his own voice roughen.

He waited, the druid beside him, and listened to the uneven, gasping tempo as Kera breathed. Sweat pooled in the hollow of her throat and dampened the hair at her temples. Her whole body arched up, and he tightened his grip on his sword.

"Should it take this long?"

Jaheira barked out a breathless laugh. "How should I know? I've not seen it so much that I know everything about it."

Kera curled onto her side, her fingers clenching, and he smelled it again, the bright, hot scent of newly-spilled blood. Her hands flew to her chest and her sides, pushing over the sweat-damp shirt. She cried out wordlessly, and he saw blood on the fabric, blossoming through in wet red patches.

He sheathed his sword. An instant later he was on his knees beside the bed. He caught her wrists, felt the straining tension in them. "She's bleeding. Why is she bleeding?"

"I don't know." Jaheira shook her head. "I don't know."

Kera tried to wrench away. He gripped her wrists harder and yanked her against him. He grabbed at her hands, prying them away from her body. Her eyes opened, wide and brown and empty, and she looked through him.

"Kera," he said, and lowered his mouth to her ear. "Kera. It's me. It's Solaufein. You're safe."

Her lips moved, silently framing his name.

"You're safe," he said again. "You're in Amkethran. You're with me."

"Solaufein. That's…you're Solaufein."

"Yes."

"You're mine."

"Yes," he said, and something in him broke. "Jaheira's here as well."

She nodded, and her mouth moved again, wordlessly. Cautiously, he loosened his grip on her hands, let her sit up slightly. She stared at the blood on her fingers. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. No, you did not. Kera, this is your blood."

"My blood."

"Yes." Painfully, he asked, "Kera, where were you?"

"In Father's place."

Past her shoulder, he saw the druid find a bowl and cloths. "What happened there?"

"There was the Ravager. It said it was the Ravager. It fought me."

"What happened?"

"I killed it."

He looked at her, looked at the shadows in her face, the way her eyelashes were spiked with sweat. He wanted to gather her into his arms and kiss her until she smiled. "We need to get you cleaned up."

She said nothing, but when Jaheira eased the loose shirt up and over her shoulders, she did not object. She sat doll-like and silent as the druid cleaned the awful gouges that crossed her ribs and striped her back.

"Did the Ravager do this?" Solaufein asked, and fought to keep his voice steady.

"It had claws. It was very big."

Gently, as if she might shatter like dropped glass, Solaufein brushed his thumb across her cheekbone. "Oh, Kera."

"Why are you sad? It's dead. It's finished."

The druid called a healing spell, and Kera did not protest. She stayed wordless while Jaheira unfolded a clean shirt over her shoulders. When the druid turned away to busy herself at the table with the bowl again, Kera reached blindly for Solaufein's hand. She was shaking, and even when he raised her fingers to his lips, she would not look at him. He wondered if he should try to touch her again, if she even _wanted_ it.

She had been lost in her father's place, and the thought of it made his shoulders tighten angrily. _Lost_, he thought, _and all because of her blood. _

He drew her to him, one hand sliding up to cup the back of her head. She sank against him, and the cool, dry fabric of the shirt dragged against his chest. He said nothing, only held her until her trembling subsided.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"We need," Kera said, and raised her face from his shoulder. "We need to get the others. I need to talk to them. And to you. To all of you."

The skin beneath her eyes was bruised with shadows, and he wanted to tell her that they could wait for the daylight, that she needed to rest. _No_, Solaufein thought. They could not, not with Abazigal dead and Kera chased and hurt by the terrible things that lived in Bhaal's place. So he nodded, and silently she slipped away from him, leaving his arms empty.


	39. Crossroads

_I own little, save a handful of original characters. As always, reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Crossroads**_

The grey dawn filled the room, and Kera waited, her eyes on her locked fingers. She heard the click of the door closing, and knew that meant she needed to speak, needed to tell them.

_The Ravager_, she thought, and could not suppress the way her stomach clenched. It had been huge and terrible, and the shrewd, vicious knowledge in its eyes had been worse than the claws that had cut into her skin. _That_ was what waited for her, waited at the beginning of Bhaal's power, and she supposed that more would follow. Things that lived inside her, and might be freed through her blood if she killed them all, her siblings, and stepped into…_what_, she thought, _whatever it was that Bhaal had left empty. _

Beside her, Solaufein breathed slowly and steadily, his shoulder against hers. She wanted to turn and hide herself in his arms, and send the others out, and pretend that the sun would not rise, that Balthazar did not expect them at the monastery.

"I'm sorry," Kera blurted. She stared at her own knees and pushed her shoulders back against the wall. "About Abazigal. It was stupid. I should've talked to you all about it."

"Kera," Jaheira said.

"No, wait. Let me say this. It was stupid. It's not something I've let myself do before. Always," she said, and looked up desperately. "We've always talked about things. Irenicus and Bodhi and…well. It nearly went wrong. Really horribly wrong. I'm sorry."

"Why?" Jaheira asked, stern. "Why did it nearly go wrong?"

"I wanted him dead," she said, honestly. "I wanted him dead and I didn't care how it had to happen. I think that means, well." She swallowed down another breath, looked at some point between her own feet, and muttered, "It means that I don't really know what's going to happen. So anyone who wants to walk out alive now, I understand."

"My raven," Haer'Dalis said, and grinned. "If I had wanted some journey upon which I could see every step clearly lit before me, I would have asked you to graciously leave me to the business of singing for my supper at the halfling's theatre."

"You are going to need help," Valygar said. "I do not know the power that is growing in you, and part of me fears it, Kera. Part of me has always feared it. I have come this far. If you need my help, I will not run, not now."

She shook her head. "But I _really_ don't know how this can end," she said, frantic. "I don't know…what do we do? Keep killing Bhaalspawn? What about when there's none left to kill? What happens then? Do we face Bhaal himself when he decides to come marching back to take his place as a god again?"

"You know," Imoen remarked, "You don't sell yourself very well at all, sister mine. If I was anyone else, you'd have to come up with a nice hefty lump of gold to keep me here after saying that."

Kera laughed, helplessly and without much mirth. "Door's that way."

"Very funny. We're not dead yet. Suppose that has to count for something." Imoen shrugged. "Are we seeing Balthazar today?"

Minsc nodded, and rubbed one big hand across his forehead. "Time should be taken to rest. The man in the monastery does not need to know we are back, not yet."

"Agreed," Jaheira said, and stood. "We've done all he wanted, but I don't trust him or his intentions. I suggest we approach him with nothing less than caution."

"You're not listening," Kera snapped, and pushed off the windowsill. "I _could not_ wake up last night. I was somewhere else. I'm not in control of this. Any of this. Most of this. I don't know."

"Kera," the druid began.

She spun and ground out, "If Bhaal is to be made _not_ to return, that might mean facing him. Facing a _god_. It might mean facing something else."

"What else?"

"If he is not there, something must be."

"You, my raven?" Haer'Dalis asked, and his voice was soft. "Is this what you tell us? That you have killed so many of your brethren, and that _something_ must take the place of your dead sire?"

"I don't know," she said, and her voice rose. "I _don't know_."

"You're _really_ not persuading me," Imoen muttered.

"You need to know." She dug her fingertips against her scalp. "I don't know…I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Oh? And can you do this alone, my raven? Stride into the abyss and dig up the grave of your dead sire and demand that he stay there?"

"If I have to."

One side of the tiefling's mouth slid up. "You're a poor performer, my raven. You always have been."

"I don't want," she said, and turned away. "I don't want any of you hurt."

"Comes with the territory, sister mine," Imoen said, and grinned. "Now stop, before you convince me otherwise."

"Kera," Jaheira said. "We'll need you rested and ready."

"Yes."

"So you'll eat and rest and you'll get yourself ready, and we'll go to the monastery this afternoon, yes?"

Kera groaned. "Jaheira. Do you know how much effort it took to tell you all this, at once? I'm already embarrassed. Stop adding to it, please."

The druid smiled. "I'm sure. Now, you don't have long, so make yourself ready."

She nodded, and waited while the druid herded the others out.

"Your friends," Solaufein said from his perch on the windowsill. "Your friends are, well. I have never…"

"They're insane," she said, and her shoulders shook. "So are you. After what happened last night."

"Nothing happened."

"I killed it," she said, and spun away from him. "I climbed up onto its back and pushed my hands through the back of its neck. It threw me off, and I did it again. And again, until it was dead."

He caught her shoulders, turning her, and she realised she had not heard him move. "Stop," he said, fiercely. "You are here. _That_ matters."

"Solaufein, I…"

He kissed her, bruising and rough. "Stop," he said again. "This helps nothing. All you are doing is convincing yourself of your own weakness. This is not something that should concern you, not now, not with Balthazar waiting."

"How can it not? How can _I_ not?"

"Push it from your thoughts," he said. His fingers dug hard against her shoulders. "You _must_."

"What if I can't?"

"You must. There is no other way. Keep this fear away or it will cripple you."

"It's _in_ me, Solaufein," she snapped. She tried to wrench away from him, and he did not let her go. "I can't push it from my thoughts. I'm not like you."

"You can. You can, and I have seen it."

She wanted him away from her, wanted to scream out her rage until she was empty of it. "I think I need to be alone."

"No."

"What?"

"No," he said again. "I almost…I could not wake you, before. I am not leaving you alone."

"You knew about this, about _me. _About Bhaal. I told you. I told you as soon as I could."

His head tipped to one side. "Yes. What does that have to do with this?"

She groaned and leaned her forehead against his shoulder. Through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the welcome heat of his skin. "I'm sorry. I'm angry and I'm lashing out at you and you're not giving me the courtesy of lashing back at me."

"Should I?"

"Probably," she murmured.

"You are very strange," he said, and sounded entirely bewildered.

Kera looked at him then, into his red eyes. She touched the slope of his cheekbones, traced around his mouth. "You'll stay?"

"I'll stay."

More words locked in her throat, and she knew she could not frame them, _should_ not, not now. So she closed the distance between them and felt his shuddering sigh against her lips. His hands on her were soft, and when he pulled her clothes away, he brushed her scars and the sharp press of her shoulder blades. He was gentle with her, almost too gentle, and she writhed under him.

"Don't rush," Solaufein murmured, mildly admonishing. "We have time."

She was not at all sure that they did, but she let him keep the pace slow and patient, his hips rocking against hers and one of his hands sliding up the side of her thigh. Again he kissed her, and when her body heaved beneath his, the soft cry of her release was lost somewhere between them.

* * *

Solaufein lay on the tangled sheets and watched the slow crawl of the sunlight across the floor. The air against his tongue was heavy, stifling, and he thought of the arena, and how he had waited. The terrible, coiled waiting while he was made to stand still and poised until he was called.

"Solaufein?"

He lifted his head slightly. "Yes?"

"Are you afraid of dying?"

"No." He frowned. "At least, I do not think I am. I have been close more than once, and I was not afraid. I have never _wanted_ to die, but I have not been afraid."

"I think…" Kera's fingers traced small circles on his chest. "I think I will die."

He rolled onto his side, so that he could look into her pale surfacer's face. "You will not die," he said, and it sounded hollow.

"Why not?"

"I won't let it happen," he said, and the words spilled out, angry and insistent. "I _won't_ let you."

"You won't let me?" A strange smile tugged at her mouth. "Solaufein. I thought you just said drow are not afraid of death."

"We're not. And I am not afraid of my own death. I am afraid of yours."

Her smile softened, and she turned her head against his shoulder. Her damp lips brushed his skin. "Don't be."

He wreathed his hand over hers and gazed at their fingers, locked together. Hers were small and white and nicked with tiny scars and his seemed so very dark against them. He was _losing_ her, and he could feel it, every time her smile turned empty, every time her eyes went distant. This was no enemy to be cornered in some lightless corridor, no opponent to carve apart before a howling crowd. His sword was little use, and nor were his wits, and he did not know what to do.

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"If I sleep, will you stay and wake me soon?"

"Of course I will."

She drifted into her dreams quickly, and her breathing steadied. He let himself stay there, his body curled around hers. He let himself notice how easily and how well they fit together. His head against hers, her crown pressing against his cheek. One of her arms around his waist, and one of his around her hips. He could smell her on the sheets, herself, her skin. The soft, musky scent of their pleasure still on her.

Solaufein thought of watching her die, and he wondered if she would be in his arms.

_She would be_, he thought, and his throat closed up. She _would_ be, even if he was on his knees and halfway to his own death when it happened. He rolled over, taking her with him. She stirred against his chest and sighed something.

"It's nothing," he said, and held her tighter. "Go back to sleep."

* * *

The heat of the morning did not change the coolness trapped between the high pillars. She sat and listened to the slow, steady sound of the monks' footsteps across the dry stone floor. They moved carefully, cautiously, and none of them looked at her, looked at where she sat chained beside their master's chair. The shackles were heavy, and their bite had left livid weals across her pale wrists. She leaned her head back against the pillar and let her eyes close, let her awareness sink below her own skin.

Abazigal was dead.

She knew it and she had felt it, the terrible tremors as his blood had spilled. And the girl – the girl had responded, _so fiercely_, so well. She had swallowed down his death with all the fervour in her body and it had filled her. She was not so shy after all, not if _his_ blood burned so bright in her.

"You."

She lifted her head and opened her eyes. "Yes?"

"Stand up."

She obeyed, and the shackles clanked.

"Stay there. Balthazar would speak to you."

She bowed her head. "As he wishes."

The silence stretched as she waited, and she let the loose fall of her hair curtain her smile.

"Melissan," Balthazar said, from somewhere behind her. "Turn around."

Again she complied, and kept her gaze turned downward. He preferred to look upon her as captive, she knew, so she would entertain that, if he wanted.

"They are back," he said, in the same neutral tone. "All of them alive."

"Yes."

"You knew?"

"I knew."

"Tell me what will happen."

She remembered how she had found him, so long ago, it seemed. How she had come to this place, this small place in the desert, and found the blood of Bhaal seething through the veins of a dark-eyed, crisp-voiced monk. He had shown her fear and uncertainty, and in his insistence, he had proved himself as foolish as the drow woman who wanted the surface, as foolish as the half-orc who had lost himself to his own madness. _All of them_, she thought, and did not allow herself to smile. _All of them fools. _

"They will come here. They can do no less."

"She is strong," the monk said. "Isn't she? The child?"

"Yes," Melissan answered, honestly. "She is troubled, but she is strong."

"You wish her dead?"

"Yes," she said. "Do _you_ wish to see if you can kill her?"

His dark eyes narrowed. "You think I cannot?"

She smiled. For all his anger, for all the blood of Bhaal that roared in him, he was still a _man_. "I think you do not realise that you will not have to kill only her."

"Her friends? They're mercenaries. Travelers. They will fall as easily as she will, if they force the issue."

"You think that?" She remembered them, remembered them all. The two rangers and the bright-haired child, the beautiful tiefling and the druid woman, and the drow. She remembered their loyalty outside the ruins of Saradush, how they had protected her, the Child of Bhaal they followed so mindlessly. Such loyalty had its own advantages, she knew, and she had seen it in the drow, in the way he had looked at the girl with all his soul bared in his red eyes. "If you give them the chance, they would likely die before her."

"Which of them?" Balthazar surged forward. "What do you know?"

She let him wait, impatient beneath the long fall of his robes. As mildly, she said, "The drow."

"The _drow?_"

She heard the sharp disdain in his voice, and smiled again. "You asked," she remarked. "If you want her made easier prey, take the drow from her first."

* * *

The sunlight painted harsh lines against the white walls of the houses. The heat settled over roofs and shutters like dense felt, and already, Kera tasted sweat on her lips. Beside her, Imoen squinted as the tavern door swung shut on her heel.

"Oh, gods," her sister muttered. "This is horrible."

Kera said nothing, only adjusted the hang of her sword at her hip. Her gaze flicked across the empty curve of the street, and then to the gap between the houses, where she could see the rise of the hill.

"Hey," Imoen said, softer. "You alright?"

"I'm fine. Just want to get going."

Imoen kicked at the ground with one foot, and looking sidelong at her, Kera saw her face crease. Her sister wanted to talk, she knew, wanted to say something, and she supposed she could not blame her.

"What is it?"

"Well," Imoen said, and smirked. "There is one important lesson that I've taken from this."

"This?"

"That part last night when you thrashed around and wouldn't get up."

Kera shoved back her instinctive, vicious retort. It was _not_ her sister's fault, _not at all. _She was here, after all, and waiting with her, waiting while the others readied the last of the supplies. "Right," she said, drily. "What was this lesson of yours, then?"

"Without a shirt on, Solaufein is very easy on the eyes."

Kera groaned. "Thanks."

"When he was all worried about you last night, he came to our room to talk to Jaheira, and he hadn't bothered, you know. Finishing getting dressed."

She heard the grin in her sister's voice. "Wonderful."

"It's a compliment, sister mine. You should be glad to know that the light of your life is nice to look at."

"I _already_ know that."

Imoen nudged her. "Course you do. You spend enough time looking at him, after all."

Almost despite herself, Kera grinned. "Well, true."

The tavern door opened again, and when Solaufein emerged, the black edges of his armour jarring and sharp against the bright fall of the sunlight, Imoen giggled. "Nice timing," she said. "We were just talking about you."

He tipped his head to one side. "Should I ask?"

"Hey," Imoen protested. "No faith, huh?"

The corners of his mouth moved into a small smile. "Kera," he said. "Are you ready?"

"Not really," she answered, and her voice wavered.

Wordlessly, he pulled her against him, so that her cheek brushed his. He cupped one hand at her nape, burying gloved fingers in the knots of her braid. "You have to be," he breathed into her ear. "You _have_ to be."

* * *

The white road wound up through the windless heat. Too aware of the silence, of the way it pressed against her face and her shoulders, Kera led them to the gates. There, the guards eyed her sidelong and nodded briskly, and she waited while they heaved the gates open. This time, the taller of the guards did not guide them through the small courtyard. Instead, he paused, and asked, "You're here for Balthazar, yes?"

"Yes."

"Come with me."

He led them through a high stone archway, and up steep steps, and into a corridor that was filled with gloom and incense. Following, Kera saw the stiffness in the guard's poise, and noticed the heavy quiet, and the closed doors.

"Through there," the man said, and gestured through another archway.

Her shoulders prickled uncomfortably. _What_, she wondered, _had changed so much, and so quickly? _

Solaufein's hand brushed the back of hers, and she mustered a smile for him. Overhead, the archway opened up into the high, domed space of a huge hall, propped up by solid pillars and lanced with sunlight through narrow windows. A dais rose at the far end, and Balthazar stood there, his hands clasped and his face placid.

"You wanted to see me," he said, and his voice was steady and even.

"Yes." Kera stopped, gauged the distance to the dais. "I didn't expect to meet you in here."

"There is much we must discuss."

"Yes," she said again, and something cold slid up her spine. "Abazigal is dead."

"Yes."

_He already knew_, she thought, and wondered how. Behind, she heard the slight noise as Imoen shifted, as Haer'Dalis reached for his sword hilts.

"Melissan is here," Balthazar said, in the same flat tone.

The words dried up in Kera's throat. _Melissan_, she thought, and realised that she was not entirely surprised. _Always Melissan_, she thought, since the whirling magic of the portal had spilled them into the streets of Saradush.

"Oh?" Haer'Dalis said, lilting and deliberately malicious. "Has she returned, then, or did she never leave? Was she obliged to be here, or does she simply enjoy your company so much?"

"She is chained," Balthazar said. His dark gaze flicked back to Kera, and he added, "She is in the prison that lies beneath this place, and she will die, tonight."

"Why?" Jaheira demanded. "Of what crime do you accuse her?"

The monk ignored her. Four quick steps took him off the dais and close to Kera. "You," he said. "Kera of Candlekeep. Have you not wondered at her? Wondered at her gifts, her beauty, her kindliness?"

She fought to find her voice, and managed, "What's your point?"

"Of course you have," he said. "But you could do nothing, could you? Not with the blood that runs in you. Your father's blood, yes? Our father's blood?"

_No_, she thought wildly.

_How could she have not known?_

_ How could she had not felt it, felt the blood in him?_

Abazigal and Sendai and the woman all made of light and Solaufein, she knew, all of them filling her thoughts.

"You're lying," she said, and it came out shaken and quiet. "That's not true."

If this monk was a Bhaalspawn, then he had ordered the deaths of other Bhaalspawn, and cast her and her friends as mercenaries. If he had known of her own heritage – and he _must have known_ – then he had waited and pitted them against each other like breathing toys.

"This is no lie, Kera of Candlekeep."

With a strange, subdued kind of gracefulness, the monk reached for her. She jerked away from him, and something inside her twisted, hot and wanting. A heartbeat later Solaufein was between them, his sword shearing clear of its scabbard.

"Speak, then," the drow snarled. "And keep yourself back from her."

Briefly, the monk's dark eyes flitted to the drow. "Ah," he murmured, and smiled. "Will you listen, Child of Bhaal?"

"Yes," Kera answered, and the heat spread beneath her skin. "I will."


	40. Strings

_As always, I own little. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Forty – Strings**_

The wind keened out here, and she listened to its song. Sometimes she heard voices beneath its rolling cadence, those of the dead, and his, and those of his children. She walked across the rolling stone, and when she let her thoughts open up, she felt the monk, and his confusion.

He faced the girl, she knew, and she wondered how long he would live.

Afterwards, the girl would come to her.

She would wait, and listen as the song rose to pull the girl here, to the place that had once been her father's.

Beside the bright pool, Melissan knelt. She let her fingers dip beneath the surface, into the burning water there. _This_ was the blood of Bhaalspawn, she knew, the bright essence of them, and it flowed through this place. This was not the dull echo of the deaths of those merely killed for Bhaal's pleasure, in Bhaal's name. This was the blood of his children, and the blood of Bhaal himself.

"_You will go there." His voice rang in her head. "You will go there, as we agreed. You will go there, and you will see it."_

"_I will."_

She had, and she had seen its wonders, this strange, dark corner of the abyss. The stars wheeled overhead too fast here, and she found beauty in their dragging, silvery shapes. She saw names in them sometimes, or thought she did, those days when she lay beside the pool and listened to the sounds of the world that was so very far away.

She lifted her hand, and the water ran in dazzling ribbons past her wrist. Some days she drank it, let it fill it her throat until her whole body shuddered.

This place and its power was hers, and she would not share it, not now.

* * *

Kera looked at the unwavering line of Solaufein's sword, still angled at the monk, and said again, "_Melissan?_ _She_ did all this?"

"Yes," he said. "She is the one pulling your strings, Kera of Candlekeep. She is the one pulling _all_ of ours. Yours, mine. Sendai and Abazigal. Illasera and Yaga-Shura."

"Wait," Jaheira said, sharply. "Explain. How did she approach you?"

"I do not know how she approached all the others. I know she found the giant when he was still in the mountains, when he was still with the old witch. For myself," the monk said, and his eyes flickered. "She came here. She found me here, and told me the secret that I had told no one else."

"She knew what you were."

"Yes. She knew what I was, and she knew what that meant. She knew Alaundo's words, all of them, and she knew what they meant." His head lifted, and something showed through in his gaze, something hard and cold. "She _knew_."

"You talk beautifully," Haer'Dalis mused, and his voice was edged. "You spin your words almost as well as our flame-haired friend, yes? Where is the truth hidden in this?"

"The truth?" The monk spun, his hands clasping in his sleeves. "The truth is that she brought us together, the five of us, and she called us the strongest of our kind. She set it upon us to wage war against the Sword Coast, a war that the people would not _even know_ was begun."

"Yaga-Shura was given Saradush," Jaheira said.

"Yes. He had his army. Sendai preferred the desert and the night-time raids, and Abazigal locked himself away in his fortress."

"Illasera?"

"She was ordered to try and kill Gorion's ward."

Haer'Dalis grinned, his lips parting over even white teeth. "And was this an honest attempt on your mistress' orders, or did she know this fifth of her corralled Bhaalspawn would doubtless die a poor death?"

"She knew," Balthazar spat. "Illasera was nothing but bait. They were _all_ nothing but bait."

"No," Kera said, and tried to push past the roaring in her ears. "No. Saradush wasn't _just_ Yaga-Shura. It was a whole _city_, and they all died there. _Hundreds_ of people. For what?"

"So you could be turned into Melissan's weapon," he said. "So you could carve your way through them, one after another, and save her the effort of doing it herself."

"What was promised?" Haer'Dalis eased closer, and both his hands vised over his sword hilts. "What coin or threat or dream could charm a contingent of Bhaalspawn into agreeing to such a thing?"

"Bhaal's power. What else? She promised us all a place beside him when he rose again, a place to revel in his power, a place to be truly his children."

Kera shuddered. She looked at his eyes, and between one breath and the next, she knew.

_"Do you not want it?" The woman's hand trailed across his, and her fingers were soft. "It would be yours, and you would be his." _

_ "These others," he managed, and pulled his hand away. "Tell me about them."_

_ "You will meet them," she said, and her smile widened. In the pale planes of her face, her eyes were jewel-bright. "Later, you will meet them." _

_ "I am not certain."_

_ "No?" Her fingers touched his again, and then his cheekbone, and just beneath his eyes. "No?"_

_ It rushed into him, something that was hot and desperate and wanting, and his body sang with it. _This_ was what had woken him at night, hunched over and trembling and wanting to have his hands all soaked with someone else's blood. _

_ "No?" Her lips brushed his ear, and she murmured, "Tell me, and I shall leave you alone." _

"She never intended you to have it," Kera murmured. "Never. Any of you."

"Do you suppose me that foolish? Of course she did not. She used _you_ to ensure that."

Almost idly, Haer'Dalis slipped past Kera's shoulder so that he flanked the drow. "Come now," he said, and laughed. "Let us not throw accusations of foolishness, yes? Perchance you could unveil the truth of your own stance, yes? I do not assume that you offer us the hand of friendship."

"No," Balthazar said, and stepped away. "I cannot."

In one smooth motion, Kera unsheathed her sword. He was close enough, she guessed, that she could leap at him. Leap at him and bury the blade in him, work it deep enough to feel his life spill.

"Of course not," Haer'Dalis said, relentlessly merry. "What then is your plan? Will you deign to tell us?"

"To return, our father needs our blood," Balthazar said, and his every word burrowed into her head. "As much of it as can be shed for him. The one of us who is left after so much death is the one of us who has the choice."

"The choice," she repeated.

"That choice is his gateway. _That_ choice is how he might return." The man's dark eyes gleamed. "Is it simple, is it not? Take away that choice, and Bhaal cannot return."

"How?"

"You are strong, Kera of Candlekeep. You have much of his strength in you now. Every one of us you have killed has given this to you. I shall kill you," he said, and his voice was bland. "You, and your friends if they protest, and when I am given that choice, I shall kill myself. Bhaal shall not return, and I shall see that it is so."

"_That_ is your plan?" She fought back the terrible urge to laugh. "Kill all of us?"

"If there is no blood of Bhaal's left, there is nothing for him to come back to."

"And you'll kill yourself?"

"Yes." His dark eyes flickered. "Yes."

"But only," Kera said, and heard the words fall hollow and cold. "Only after we are dead."

"Yes."

"_No_," Solaufein snarled. "This choice is not yours to make, surfacer."

"There is no other way. How else can Melissan be stopped? How else can Bhaal's return be stopped?"

"You said you'd have Melissan killed," Jaheira said, quietly.

"And so I shall. Once you are finished with, so shall she be."

"If she is what you say, do you think your chains will hold her?"

"Then I will find her," Balthazar murmured. "I will find her, and she will die."

He had _used_ her, Kera thought, and the anger rose up. _Used her as much as Melissan ever had, used her to cull their siblings, to make his task all the easier, used her, used her anger and her strength. _

_Used her. _

She flung herself at him. Confusingly fast, he melted away from her. He twisted towards Solaufein, and she wondered why. The drow's sword arced down, and the monk ducked beneath. The flat of his hand clapped across the drow's shoulder, spun him. A follow-up blow had the drow swaying.

She gathered herself again, and Haer'Dalis grabbed her wrist. She snarled something and tried to tear herself away.

"_No_," he snapped. "Let me."

She was aware of running feet, and someone shouting. The tiefling's swords danced, and Balthazar whirled away from the drow. As fast, Solaufein recovered his footing and pressed forward, sword held low. Somewhere behind her, Imoen chanted out a spell. She dug her fingers into her palms and tried to batten down the swell of anger.

_They were making her wait. _

She turned, saw the flicker of Jaheira's spear as she steeled herself. She looked across the sun-striped stone and saw more of them, Balthazar's monks, saw as they shied back from the crackling burst of Imoen's spell.

"Kera," Jaheira called raggedly. "Stay back. We have them."

They were _still_ making her wait.

She turned again, her feet dragging against the floor. Under her skin, her blood thrummed, and she _needed_ to be doing something, something that would let her move and twist and kill until the anger emptied out of her.

Haer'Dalis' right-hand sword cracked harmlessly against the monk's shoulder, and he darted away from the sweep of the left-hand blade. Somehow, he caught Solaufein's wrist and yanked, and the drow stumbled. Kera growled and launched herself. Her shoulder cannoned into the monk's, and he swayed. She scythed her sword against his right arm, and his fingers spasmed open. Snake-quick, Solaufein dropped. She heard the bite of steel against skin, and Balthazar staggered.

She drove her sword hilt into his ribs, heard his shocked exhalation. Another stroke slapped against the back of his legs, and when he scrambled to keep his balance, she ploughed into him again.

He toppled hard, and she did not let go of him. The point of her sword sketched a jagged, dripping line across his shoulder. Someone grabbed at her arm, tried to wrestle her away from him.

"No," she snapped, and rammed her knee against his stomach. "He's _mine_."

The man raised his hands, and she responded with the edge of her sword. She smelled his blood as it flowed, as it thickened the fall of his robes. The same hands caught her again, and others, and she heard someone calling out that the monks had fallen back, that they were frightened. The man's hands scrabbled against her forearm, against her fingers, against the hilt of her sword. Clumsily, she let the blade drop. It must have sunk into him somewhere, because she heard his choked gasp. Blindly, she reached for his throat. His skin gave way under her fingers, and she felt the shivering wave of his death.

"Get her away from him."

"She won't."

"Get her _away_ from him. _Now_."

Someone hooked slender hands under her arms and lifted her. She kicked out, and he did not let go. She thrashed again, and he only turned her so that she was pressed against black armour and the bite of buckles and straps.

"It's me," he said, into her ear. "Kera. It's me. He's dead. Let him go. He's gone."

She tried to find the floor with her feet, but he was moving, carrying her with him. He had one arm latched across the back of her thighs, bruisingly hard. The other was hooked around her shoulders, and she could feel his breathing against the side of her neck. Her face was buried against loose white hair, and she _knew_ him.

"Solaufein," she murmured. "It's alright."

"Not yet. Hold onto me."

She did. She hid herself against him, eyes closed, until she could feel the shape of him, all lean shoulders and narrow waist and the fierce pressure of his arms around her.

"Kera," Solaufein said, and his voice was tender and patient. "Kera, are you with me?"

"I'm with you." She pried her eyes open, and blinked when his hair tickled her lashes. "You can put me down now."

She felt his small laugh, and the brush of his fingers against her throat when he loosened his hold on her.

"He's dead?"

"He's dead," Jaheira answered. "Kera."

"I know," she said. She breathed in, steadying herself. She let herself look at the monk's crumpled body, at the great gleaming swathes of blood. The aching anger was there, still, curling through her.

"So, Melissan," Imoen said, and shrugged. "Should we be surprised?"

"I want to be," Kera replied. "I knew there was something. Just…I don't know. We still don't know _why_."

"Or if Balthazar was telling us the truth."

"He was," she said, and looked at the dead monk again. "I can…he was telling the truth."

* * *

Beneath the monastery, low-roofed tunnels led to small closed cells. Hanging lanterns lit the edges of rusting bars and showed nothing but bare earth.

"You're sure?" Jaheira said, sharply. "You're certain Balthazar had her moved here?"

Beside her, the monk nodded. His hands twisted against each other, and he whispered, "Yes. I'm sure. It was this one."

Kera clenched her fingers around the bars. She breathed in the silence and the emptiness inside. How long had Melissan been here, she wondered, sitting beneath the earth, and how long had Balthazar thought her confined?

_Never_, she thought, and something cold needled at the pit of her stomach.

_His blood on her hands was slick and red and she felt the heat of it beneath her nails, eating into the pads of her fingers. _Never_, she realised. Never had he truly thought it might work. His wish been fierce and painful and desperate, that the Bhaalspawn might fall, and his own death would follow, and Melissan's own hopes fly apart. _

"Kera," Solaufein murmured, and she felt his hand on her wrist. "Kera?"

"She's gone," Kera said, uselessly. She looked at his fingers, gloved and slender, and curling around hers. She could not feel the pressure of them, not really. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"We need," she said, and shook her head. She gripped the bars tighter and felt it again, the strange, digging heat in her belly. "Hold on to me," she said, and heard her own voice roughen. "_Solaufein_, hold onto me. _Please_."

Wordlessly, he wrapped both arms around her. Something sharp on his armour bit into her shoulder. She leaned back against the solid wall of his chest. She grasped at his hands where they vised over her waist. Somewhere in front of her, the bars rippled.

"No," she began. "No, I don't…"

_Melissan,_ she thought, and knew that she needed to be away from here, away from the emptiness.

Melissan who had written the steps she had walked. Melissan who had set her against her siblings until their blood raged somewhere inside her, alongside her own. _Melissan_, she thought, _who needed to die. _

_Something_ tore through her, something that left her head whirling and her mouth full of the sharp prickle of her own sweat. Someone's hand caught her chin and insistently turned her head until her cheek slid against warm skin. _Solaufein_, she thought, and tried to say his name aloud.

_She would find Melissan and pry the soft smile from her face with her bare hands if she had to. She would find her and make her regret her arrogance. She would cut the cost of Saradush from Melissan's skin, and she would do it slowly. _

_ No_, she thought, close to panic. She needed her mind clear and her anger shut away. In Sendai's place she had surrendered to it, and in Abazigal's, and it had filled her _so beautifully_.

She tried to twist herself away from the drow, and he did not let her. She could not see him, not properly, and his hands on her wrists were hard. His arms locked around her again, yanking her back against his chest. His mouth was close to her ear, and she could smell him, leather and steel and skin beneath.

She remembered Suldenessellar, and waking there to him, and the longing in his face, in his hands when he touched her. Desperately, she grappled for it, the memory of it, of _them_, together in a room all full of sunlight.

_"I want to stay."_

_ "Then stay." _

She tried to see, to clear the insistent, clinging darkness from her vision. Someone shouted her name, and she pushed it back, pushed it away, pushed past the bright flare of anger until every inch of her ached.

"Kera," someone said, and part of her recognized Valygar's wary tones. "Where have you taken us?"

"Kera," Solaufein murmured, and his lips brushed the side of her neck. "Kera, can you stand?"

"No," she mumbled. She heard him shift, felt him brace her against his shoulder. "Yes. Yes, I'm alright."

She opened her eyes to a flood of white light and the sudden, wrenching awareness that she was no longer in Balthazar's monastery. Against her tongue, the air was warm and coppery, and the flow of it against her skin was familiar.

"Oh," she said. "I didn't mean…I'm sorry."

"This is…?"

"Yes," Kera answered. "This is where I go when I dream."

Somewhere behind, she heard Imoen's nervous laugh. "So this is the lady you've been dreaming about?"

She made herself turn, and stupidly found herself smiling. She met the fierce blaze of the woman's eyes. "Yes."

"Well," Haer'Dalis murmured. "Fortune smiles upon you indeed, my raven. This lovely lady is a solar, unless I'm much mistaken in my assumptions. Which, I must add, I very rarely am."

"God-child," the woman said, and the corners of her mouth creased slightly. "You withdrew from it. You brushed aside the anger."

"That didn't feel like _brushing_," Imoen muttered.

"It hurt," Kera said, before she could think better of it. Blindly, she reached for Solaufein's hand. "Why are we all here?"

"You brought them with you," the woman said, in the same firm tone. "You called them all with you. The blood sings in you, god-child."

"Does it?"

"It fills you, and you must decide what will become of it." The woman's lambent gaze turned to Imoen, and she said, "And here is your sister."

"Yes?" Imoen kicked her heels against the ground. "I mean…well, I don't know what I mean. Are we doing the right thing?"

"Choices remain, for you and for your sister. You are here for Melissan."

"Is she here?" Jaheira asked.

"No. She has gone to the place that was once where Bhaal sat upon his throne. The place from which he looked down upon the Abyss and all that was in it. The place where he sat and heard the songs of his worshippers."

"How did she get herself there?" Kera demanded. "What _is_ she?"

"She is his, and always has been."

"She's not a Bhaalspawn."

"No. She is not. Her soul was once his, and her promises, and her life."

"And now?"

"God-child," the woman said, and her voice softened. "Would you know it? Would you know of her?"

"_Yes_," she snarled. "I _would_."

* * *

_The morning brought rain from the curtains of grey clouds above. The stone ran with the thick cold ribbons of it. She danced beneath it, danced until her white shift was plastered to the curves and lines of her body, until her hair rippled in wet waves past her shoulders. Some of the others watched her, and some of the others joined her. They lit the torches later, and they hissed beneath the drizzle. By the time they called her up the steps, the day was dying away. _

He_ had asked for her. _

_ He often did, and they would speak together in the stone chamber. She would listen to his voice until it filled her head and made her blood thrum beneath her skin. Sometimes he allowed her into his presence even when she was impatient, when she did not care to wait for his summons. _

_ She crossed the threshold and wondered what shape he would wear today. _

_ Briefly, she knelt. The small torches here sent yellow light shivering over the edges of the stone and the old carvings and _him_. _

_ "You asked for me," she murmured. _

_ "Yes," he said, and smiled. "I have need to speak with you, Amelyssan."_

_ On his lips, her name was lilting and beautiful, and she smiled. She listened as he told her of his trust, his trust in her and her faith. He would grant her power as long as she held that faith for him, and she nodded. _

_ "Always," she said fiercely. "Always for you."_

_ "Then listen, Amelyssan. Listen and know."_

_ She did, and his words sent the heat rushing through her, coiling and delicious. The secrets of his return would be hers, entrusted and given. She would be his messenger and his herald, and by her triumphs, she would make certain that he would rise from the failure of his own death. _

_ He touched her face, and the coin-bright fall of the hair that the men she knew at the temple stared at. "You will do this for me?"_

_ "I will." _

_ She did. _

_And when he fell, his life sheared from him by the treacherous mortal Cyric, she went to the river there, and sank her hands into the water. Her god had died in those waters, and she could feel his death there. She knelt and drank, and the loose end of her braids dipped into the water. She could not count the years after that, for his strength marked her, and she did not change. She was beautiful and she was his and she learned of his children, and where they lived and died. She found some strong and others weak, and read and read again the words Alaundo had written. _

_ Sometimes he called to her from the other side of his death. Sometimes his voice was in her dreams, and sometimes it filled her when she was awake. Other times he taught her how to let her thoughts fall open, so that she might feel the blood and thoughts of his children, might hear their feet against the earth as they walked through their lives. _

_ And then called her to that place that was his, and she called up the gateway as he had taught her, and she stepped through into it. It was beautiful, and when she knelt beside the pool, she knew then that she could not let him take it from her. _

* * *

"She's going to betray him," Kera said, and something cold unreeled through her. "She's going to take his power for herself."

"A most ambitious lady indeed," Haer'Dalis remarked.

"She waits," the woman said, and the fierce glow of her eyes softened slightly. "The woman who once was Amelyssan waits for you."

"How do I get there?"

"You will know, god-child. Your father's blood will call you there. It is the place from which he ruled, and your blood knows it."

She stared down at the stone between her feet. "She knows I'm coming, doesn't she?"

"She knows you cannot do otherwise."

She let herself smile, slightly. "To stop her or to take it from her?"

"That choice is yours, god-child. I counsel only caution, and that you listen to yourself. You _know_ what it is to lose yourself."

"Can it be done?" When she swallowed, her throat was thick. She was aware of the others, and the way they watched her. She was aware of Solaufein's wordless presence behind her, and she did not want to turn around. She did not want to see his face. She _knew_ him, and she did not want to see the silent yearning in his eyes. Not now, not when the fear tightened in her gut and threatened to unstring her. "Can it be done?" Kera asked again.

"God-child," the woman answered, gently. "I cannot tell you if you will live. I can tell you that you own the courage to go to Amelyssan and challenge her, and that is all."

"I don't mean that," she said. She dug her fingers into her palms. "I don't care about that. Can I kill her and then not give in to it? To Bhaal? Can I do it and not lose myself?"

"God-child."

"There are far worse things that simply dying," she snapped. "_Tell me_."

"I believe that you can. I do not know if you _will_."

The breath left her lungs in a shuddering rush. "Thank you."

"God-child," the woman said. "You have little time. Your decision must come soon."

"I know." Against her eyelids, the air was hot and dry, and she wondered whether the place where Melissan waited would be different.

"We're coming with you, you know," Imoen said.

"You shouldn't."

"You're not _that_ good with a sword, sister mine. That stupid red-haired bitch could have you flat on your back in three heartbeats for all you know."

"The way she's built?" Kera summoned a smile. "Besides, I'm wiry and easy to underestimate."

"You're an idiot," Imoen said, and turned away.

Kera looked at the ground again, at the small lines in the stone.

"Kera," Solaufein said, from somewhere behind her. "Look at me."

"No."

Forcibly, he turned her, his hands hard on her shoulders. She tried to shy away, and he caught her chin. "Look at me."

"I don't want to," she murmured. "If I look at you, I'll want you to come with me, and then we'll both die."

"Stop this," he said. "I am not waiting here. I will be with you."

"Don't."

"I am not going to argue with you," he said, in the same rough tone. "And you are not going to argue with me."

The others were still there, she knew, and she was vaguely away that she should have been mortified, should have wanted to drag him away somewhere out of earshot. Instead, she simply looked at him, looked into his face. "You're so beautiful."

"Stop," he said again. "This is not a farewell."

"It might be."

"_No_. Do you truly think I will stand by and _watch_ you do this?"

"You should." She touched his face, found the small hollow beneath his cheekbone. She steeled herself, and murmured, "You're a drow. Aren't you meant to be good at doing what you're told?"

"You don't mean that."

"Don't I?"

"No." His red eyes narrowed slightly, and he added, "You're a poor liar, Kera, and you're worse at trying to make me angry when you don't truly want to."

She gulped out a laugh. "Please just do what I'm asking?"

"I cannot." He framed her face between his hands, and when he kissed her, she clung to him. Again and again, he seized her mouth with his, desperate and messy and almost painful when his teeth caught against her lips. "I cannot," Solaufein said. "Not about this."


	41. Daughters of Bhaal

_As always, a huge thank you to everyone who's following this story. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Forty-One: Daughters of Bhaal **_

Under Kera's feet the stone was hot, and she felt the same heat as it moved through her. She needed to move, needed to _keep_ moving until she found Melissan, until she could empty out her anger. She turned and stepped away from the drow, and heard the hitch in his breathing.

She _had_ to, even when her stomach clenched, even when her hands ached for him.

"God-child," the solar said, quietly. "If you are ready, you will know what you must do."

"Yes." She did, and it seemed suddenly so very obvious. If this place was something of Bhaal's, and she had already called portals through here, and let them take her to places, then she could open the place up and use it and the heat that ran through it like blood.

Slowly, she touched the stone, and watched almost absently as her fingers sank beneath the warm surface of it.

"Kera?" Imoen brushed her shoulder. "Kera, what are you doing?"

"Opening a door. A gate. Something to take us to where Melissan is."

"And you know where that is?"

She nodded. "It's where Father's throne was, once. I can find it."

"Kera," Imoen said, hushed. "Your eyes are strange."

She supposed she should have been embarrassed, or worried, but she only shrugged. She let her fingers slip deeper into the stone and she felt it, the slow thump of the power in it. Bhaal's strength, she knew, the echoes of his life trapped there. She let her fingers close together, and at the same time she _wanted_, wanted the doorway that would take her to Melissan, the doorway that would answer the song of her blood.

Silently, the stone split apart.

Between lay only darkness, brittle and unrelenting and _old_ when she breathed it in.

"Oh, gods, Kera," Imoen muttered. "Really?"

"Stay here," she said.

"_No_."

She turned then, and kept her gaze trained on the ground. This was why she breathed, she realised. This was why Gorion had saved her and taken her from the temple. This was why she had killed Sarevok beneath Baldur's Gate. This was why Irenicus had taken her soul.

_This_ was what she was.

"I'm going," she said.

"And we're coming with you," Imoen snapped.

"You shouldn't."

"Stop," Jaheira said, and her tone bristled with something very like anger. "I have not shied from anything you have dragged me through, child, not then, and not now."

She made herself turn. She could feel the gateway, could feel the way it sucked and pulled at her. "But if…"

"Melissan waits for you," Solaufein said. He clasped her hand, and very gently brought her fingers to his lips. "We need to go."

"Yes, but," she said, and shook her head. She could not feel the pressure of his mouth under her fingers; only the thump of her own blood. "You're ready for this?"

"Yes," the drow said fiercely.

Haer'Dalis grinned, and replied, "Readier than a red-cheeked maiden, my friend."

Imoen groaned. "Haer'Dalis. That was awful."

"And yet you smile, my beauty."

Their voices seemed very far away. Kera withdrew her hand and turned away before she could see Solaufein's face change, before she could see his wine-red eyes change. She looked at the gateway, at the blackness there that was strung between the stone. She let herself linger a heartbeat longer, her hand splayed against the rippling darkness. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped through, and a strange, aching part of her hoped – hoped _so very much _– that they would follow her.

* * *

The girl was here, and she felt the ripple of her arrival through the wind that sang in her head and played teasingly through her hair. She pressed herself against the slope of the stone and felt the girl's presence there as well, in the stone and the heat and every breath that crossed her lips.

She was home, Amelyssan knew, and her father's blood would rage within her.

She would lose herself, and the blood would drive her onwards, and she would try to claim some victory.

She would not, Amelyssan knew. She would _not, _because she was still only mortal, and she could die as slowly as any other mortal when it was required. She had dreamed it, both in the world that was far away, and here, where her dreams were bright and jarring and beautiful. She had dreamed the girl's death, and she knew that it would happen here, and the girl's friends would see it.

The girl's drow would see it.

Slowly, Amelyssan dipped her hand into the pool again, and the water rushed into her palm.

* * *

Solaufein flung himself after her. Wind screamed against his half-closed eyes, and the blackness gave way to something else, the close press of air that tasted like rain-wet steel. Beneath his feet, stone unraveled, smooth and dark. Somewhere above, he saw the white spots of stars, or what he supposed _should_ have been stars. He did not know though, not really, and the deep, gulping breath he took raked through his chest.

"Kera," he said, when he saw her. "Are you alright?"

She turned, and the strange light in her eyes softened. "You're here."

"Yes." He tried to reach for her, and when she stepped away from him, it stung.

"She's here," Kera said. "I need to find her."

The gateway shivered again, and Minsc strode through, head bent against the press of the wind. As silently, Valygar followed, and his dark eyes flickered. Haer'Dalis was next, his head down and his eyes narrowed, and Imoen staggered through after him, her hand catching against his arm. After her, Jaheira stepped through, her feet silent against the stone.

Kera said nothing, only turned away, her footsteps soundless and sure. Flanking her, Solaufein saw how her hand curled and flexed around her sword hilt. Amid the pale, sharp angles of her face, her eyes were all full of fire, dark and fierce. She prowled between the high rock arches with an unerring, vicious grace, and he knew that she was hunting. Hunting Melissan, he thought, and he pressed on beside her. The wind keened, and she tilted her face into it. Her eyes closed, and she smiled as she breathed in slowly.

He had _never_ seen her like this. So assured, so _knowing_, so strangely serpentine as she walked.

She was not herself.

_No_, he thought, and the realization made his stomach tighten. She _was_ herself, and that truth bit into him. This place was hers, and it always had been.

He remembered those first few days on the surface. Days full of the livid fall of the sunlight, and the cool gloom of the night, and the strange, bewildering presence of the surfacer girl who had decided his life was worth keeping.

"_Solaufein, I wonder if we might speak of something?"_

And she had told him of her heritage, hushed and slightly stumbling, as if afraid of his reaction. He had not understood, not really, and he had looked at her and tried to see some obvious mark of this, the blood of the dead god who was her father. All he had found then was that she was a surfacer, and young, and her small, quiet smiles made him wish to see more of them.

And now she was here, in her father's place, and some aching part of him knew that she was barely aware that he was beside her. He could smell the heat in her, the coppery blood-scent of it.

On both sides, the high swirls of rock fell away. Overhead, the sky was black and roaring, and the white points of the stars pulsed. As if she knew exactly where she needed to be, Kera led them between the rolling stone slopes. The wind filled Solaufein's ears, and he gritted his teeth. Half-deaf, he was close to useless, and when she quickened her pace, he matched her. He reached for her, and his fingers grazed the side of her arm. "Kera. _Slow down_."

Cat-quick, she shoved past him. "There," she said.

She was rigid, and her fingers curled hard against her palms. Every nerve in him screamed at him to step in front of her, to shield her. Instead, he steeled himself and looked past her shoulder, to where the stone rose up and ringed the bright circle of a small pool. Shot through with trembling silver reflections, the water shimmered.

Melissan sat beside the pool, one hand buried beneath the surface, and the long red waves of her hair hiding her face.

* * *

Imoen stumbled against Haer'Dalis' shoulder again, and tried to smile when he wordlessly steadied her. When she breathed, her chest ached, and the iron-band pressure around her head thumped, slowly and relentlessly.

She shook herself. She had to move on, she knew, had to close the distance between herself and Kera, had to somehow get herself to where Melissan waited.

_Sitting by the pool_, she thought, and something hot and angry swelled inside her. _Sitting there, just sitting there, waiting for them. _

Imoen strode forward again, and something tugged at her. She glared down, and saw the tiefling's hand, slender fingers wrapping around her wrist. She swallowed her instinctive, waspish response, and muttered, "Haer'Dalis?"

"I swear," the bard said, low-voiced and stern. "Between you and your sister, you will be the bane of my sanity. Hold onto yourself, my wildflower."

"I don't," she began, and the words died in her mouth. "Stay there?"

His eyes were dark and unsmiling. His grip tightened, and he said, "For as long as you have need."

She wanted to thank him, wanted to smirk at him and make him grin. She opened her mouth, and the surge of the anger stopped her. Her skin prickled horribly, hot and itching, as if she had jumped too quickly into a steaming bath after wasting a winter's day outside. _No_, she thought, and tried to clear her thoughts. That memory was Candlekeep, and it was hers, and it had no business assaulting her now, while her feet struck hard echoes against the stone.

She looked at Kera, _her sister_, looked at how her whole frame was coiled and impatient. The drow was on her other side, and beneath the white fall of his hair, his red gaze was murderous.

"Ah, Kera," Melissan said. She straightened up slightly, and the water ran in thick ribbons down her arm. "You are here, finally."

Kera said nothing.

"Melissan," Jaheira said, and she sounded tired. "Do we even need to talk?"

"You're here as well." The woman smiled. She pushed up to her feet, and her blue eyes fixed on the druid. "All of you. I feel as if I should be surprised."

"Surprised, beautiful one?" Haer'Dalis grinned, wolfish and all teeth. "You who have so cleverly written this path for us? Whyever would you admit to surprise?"

"This is a matter for Bhaal's children," Melissan said. "And yet here you are as well."

"Indeed," the tiefling said. "Here we are. It seems there were no better offers at hand."

Melissan answered, and her voice turned sharp and cruel, and Imoen barely heard her. She stared at the glorious fall of the woman's hair, at the fluttering pulse beneath her jaw. _She_ had done this, this woman, this woman who had appeared as merely mortal. _She_ had set their path before them, and sent them blindly into the desert.

"Imoen," Haer'Dalis snapped, and yanked hard on her wrist.

"How long ago was it?" Kera asked, her voice granite-hard. "How long ago that you betrayed your faith for your own ambition?"

Melissan's laugh chimed softly. "He put his trust in me and I found that I prefer my own victory. It is simple, child. His power is left here, in this place and in you, and I shall have it."

"Why _you?_"

"Why not?" Melissan's smile widened. "Why you, child? You are here because you are strong. I am here because I am strong."

"This was my father's place," Kera said. Her eyes did not leave the woman's face, and she snarled, "My _father's_ place. Why should you have it?"

"Asking again will not change the answer, child. Now, will you face me yourself, or will you lead your friends to their end as well?"

Imoen wrestled her hand properly into the tiefling's and muttered, "You with me?"

"As always, little one."

This woman was a trespasser here in their father's place, his sanctuary, and her presence was a crime. Somewhere beneath her skin, the anger raged and pounded, relentless as storm surf.

"Oh, child," Melissan said, and laughed. "You falter already? Is it their lives you care for, or their deaths? Would you be the reason for their fate?"

Kera smiled. Her face was strange, all sharp white angles and the strange flames in her eyes, and Imoen wondered if she looked at all the same. Maybe she did, here, where she could feel her own breathing in the stone beneath her feet.

"Amelyssan, I don't care," Kera said, and threw herself at the woman.

* * *

Kera had her sword clear of its sheath before she closed the distance, and the edge sheared towards the woman's side. Amelyssan twisted away, and Kera's sword smacked harmlessly against _something_ beneath the soft tumble of her robes. She found her balance again, heard the others moving somewhere behind her.

"Oh, Child of Bhaal," Amelyssan said, and laughed. "You have such fire in you when you wish it. Would you take this place from me?"

She did not trust her voice. She hurled herself at the woman again, and her sword glanced harmlessly against her arms, her shoulders. She pirouetted, and the blade bit through the woman's robes.

"I have been here too long, child," Amelyssan said. "There is too much of your father's strength in me."

_No_, she thought, and sprang. Someone shouted at her to be careful. The bright burst of a spell rocketed past her head. She drove her pommel against the woman's shoulder, and when she swayed back a step, Kera leaped. Her elbow slammed into Amelyssan's stomach, and a scything kick spoiled her balance. Viciously, Kera dragged her to her knees. She lodged her sword beneath the woman's chin, and when the woman smiled, entirely unconcerned, the seething knot of her anger tightened.

She wanted to scream at the woman, snarl that she should be afraid, that she was about to die, that her blood would spill into the silver pool. She tried, and her voice locked up in her throat.

"Foolish child." Blindingly fast, Amelyssan caught her right wrist and wrenched. She toppled, and the woman's arm hooked around her waist. "Will you watch?"

Pinioned, Kera thrashed. Her heels kicked uselessly against the stone, and the woman's grip tightened.

"You _will_ watch," Amelyssan murmured into her ear. "I know this place, and I know what lives here."

She twisted again, tried to bite at the arm that trapped her.

Amelyssan laughed. "You'll watch, child."

She felt the surge as the woman bowed her head and called. _Called_ to the strength that lay beneath the stone; Bhaal's strength, and Bhaal's gifts.

"You'll watch, and they'll die," Amelyssan said. Her other hand snaked into Kera's hair, gripped hard. "Your sister, and your friends, and your drow."

On the far side of the pool, the stone tore. Blackness showed through, shining and old. She saw movement, and the sharp edges of bone and claws, and the fierce fire in the eyes of the things that crawled through. They were like the Slayer, she thought, almost vaguely. They were like the thing that had snarled its rage at her in the stone halls of her dreams. They were part of the stone, and part of Bhaal's strength, and the blood that swarmed in them was hers.

"_Watch_," Amelyssan said, and caught her chin.

Through stinging sweat, she saw the others as they turned to face the creatures, the things. Her _friends_, Amelyssan had said, her sister, and her drow. She _should_ remember, she knew. She _should_ know them. Something scrabbled at the back of her thoughts, insistent and prodding. She watched as the drow twisted beneath the sweep of curved claws, and the livid line of his sword flicked up. He moved with frightening, predatory grace, and she found herself staring at his hands.

Her friends, she thought again. She looked at them, all of them, and how they fought so fiercely. Two men, and both of them tall and heavy with muscle, and the driving strokes of their weapons sent Amelyssan's creatures staggering back. There was a woman with slightly pointed ears as well, and her dark eyes were ferocious. She knew all their names, _surely_.

She saw a tiefling and a girl, and their hands were locked together. He yanked her aside, and twisted, letting his sword sink hilt-deep between one towering creature's ribs. He dragged his sword clear, and pale energy spat from the girl's free hand. He had a second sword strapped across his back, and Kera wondered why he left it sheathed, wondered why he spun again, his shoulder covering the girl's.

She _knew_ the girl. She fought for the girl's name, and when she failed, she thrashed against Amelyssan's hold.

_Your sister and your friends and your drow. _

"No," she breathed. "Let them go."

"You brought them here," Amelyssan said.

"Let them _go_."

The drow's sword bit into one creature's flank. When it swayed, he braced one foot against the slope of its thigh and launched himself up. He caught its shoulder, and the sweep of his sword opened its throat. As fast, he dropped, and one white braid snagged across his hand.

_He had scars there_, she thought. She _knew_ he had scars there, small and thin and snaking across his palm. She _remembered_, and that awareness pooled like strange heat in her belly. She remembered the elvish city, and how he had cupped the sunlight between his bare hands.

_"How did you get these scars?"_

_ "These? A long time ago."_

She was shackled by her own fear, and her father's blood would _not_ have that, not now, not with Amelyssan's hands on her.

_Traitor_, she thought, and the voice in her head was not entirely her own. She could feel the woman's blood, pulsing in the arms that were locked around her. The blood that had been given to her father, and then taken away again in spurned faith. _She still kept his strength_, Kera thought furiously. _She kept his strength and his gifts and she _betrayed_ him. _

Kera sank her fingers into Amelyssan's arm. She waited, listening to the pounding surge of her own heartbeat. She closed her eyes, and between breaths, she reached _into_ herself.

Her blood answered.

_Bhaal_ answered, and she wrenched Amelyssan's arm aside. An instant later she was on her feet, her hand closing on her sword hilt. She spun, and met Amelyssan's laughing blue eyes.

"Oh, child," the woman said. "You have a spine after all, do you?"

* * *

The seething rush of the spell fled from Imoen's hand, and she watched as it arced and burrowed into the creature's leg. Slowly, it toppled, and her next spell tore it backwards. She dallied, her eyes on the shuddering heaves of its chest.

"_Imoen_," Haer'Dalis snapped, and pulled her aside. "_Move_."

She staggered. "I'm fine."

"You're in my way," he said, and his voice was low and strained and entirely unlike himself.

Almost absently, Imoen looked past his shoulder. She saw the pool, bright and gleaming, and her sister as she hurled herself at the red-haired woman. With wiry, unsettling speed, Kera twisted, and the edge of her sword slashed past Melissan's hands. The woman jerked away, and her heel caught awkwardly against the ground.

_Heavy with the tang of the sea, the night wind rattled the palm leaves. The tide heaved and surged, and when Imoen lifted her face, the spray caught in her hair. Behind, she could see the flickering lights of the tavern, up the rise of the stairs. She turned away, and when she quickened her pace, her heels sank into the damp sand. _

_ Somewhere behind the unprepossessing sprawl of rock and dirt and sand that was Brynnlaw was the empty asylum. The place she had been with Irenicus. The place where he had kept her, and kept her for himself. _

_ She shrugged deeper into the deep blue folds of the cloak and breathed in the raw salt-scent. _

_ "Hey," Kera said, softly, from somewhere behind her. "Want some company?"_

_ "Not really." _

_ Quietly stubborn, her friend did not leave. "Tough." _

_ No, Imoen thought, and closed her eyes against another burst of spray. Kera was not her friend, not anymore, not really. She was her _sister_, and the strange awareness of that made her ache. _

_ "Have you slept at all?"_

_ "You sound like Jaheira, sister mine."_

_ "You're going to be calling me that now?" Kera nudged her shoulder. "You know something?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "I'm not entirely surprised."_

_ "Really?"_

_ "No." Kera raked loose brown hair away from her mouth and added, "I know that – well, you having Bhaal's blood is terrible. I know that. Please understand that. I just…I quite like it. In a way."_

_ "So, apart from the whole cursed and terrible blood part – the part that _makes_ us sisters – you're fine with this?"_

_ Kera scowled. "Well, when you say it like _that_, I suppose not." _

_ Imoen laughed. "Sorry." _

_ "No, you aren't." She shielded her eyes with one hand. "Who's cloak have you stolen?"_

_ "No one's."_

_ "Liar. The colour's not your favourite. And the hem's trailing."_

_ Imoen grinned, and brushed at the looping designs that were sewn across one shoulder. "It's the tiefling's."_

_ "Haer'Dalis? Really? Don't get it too filthy. He's finicky like a cat about his things sometimes." _

Something solid smacked into her shoulder, and she stumbled. She blinked, and was vaguely aware of a dark, jagged shape somewhere above her. Beneath her feet, the stone was hot, and something inside her surged in response.

"There's more," Haer'Dalis snapped. "Get behind me."

"No, wait," she managed, and the words rolled thickly off her tongue. "Wait, I can, you'll need spells, I can…"

Roughly, he spun her behind him and shoved her down. "Stay there."

The heels of her hands jarred against the stone. Her hip impacted as hard, and she gulped down an uneven breath. Desperately, she tried to collect her thoughts, tried to tame the wild flare of the anger. Above her, the bard reached for his sheathed sword, all lithe grace. He whirled beneath the downward curve of the creature's claws and his sword rattled clear. His right-hand blade scythed in first, and the edge bit into the creature's arm. The creature – the Slayer, Imoen thought, the Slayer or one of the Slayer's echoes – snarled and flailed at the sword.

Haer'Dalis danced away. Both his swords crossed over the creature's lunging hands. Again it charged, and again, and the dark spill of its blood coated the ground and the bard's face. One sword-point lodged deep beneath its shoulder. The creature lurched back, and the hilt was wrenched away from the bard's hand.

_No,_ Imoen thought, and scrambled half upright. "No, don't!"

But he was already reaching for it, pushing up on one foot. A heartbeat too slow, he brought his left-hand sword up. The creature's head ducked, and the teeth clashed against the blade. Jarred, Haer'Dalis dropped, and the scything sweep of the creature's arm ruined his balance.

Imoen snarled out the words to a spell, any spell, something that would give the bard enough space to recover his footing. Viciously fast, the creature dived after him, and she _saw_ it, the awful moment when the claws sheared into him.

"_No_."

The spell burst from her hands, white and cold and sparking, and hissed into the creature's throat. Another spell drove it to its knees.

Some small part of her was aware of Haer'Dalis, aware of how he was hunched on his side, how the stone beneath him was crimson and shining. She stepped past him, and heard the wet, dragging sound of his breathing.

Thoughtfully, Imoen knelt beside the creature. She closed one hand around the hilt of Haer'Dalis' sword and slowly, she twisted the blade. She breathed in the rich, heady scent of the creature's blood, and she felt it, the wracking shudder of its death. Slowly she looked past it, and when she saw her sister, her brown eyes all aflame with her own strength, she was no longer afraid.


	42. The Spoils

_As always, thank you so much to everyone who's following this story. Little belongs to me, and reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Forty-Two – The Spoils**_

Jaheira braced herself beneath the flat of her upraised spear and winced at the shuddering impact when one of Melissan's creatures drove itself at her. Her shoulders throbbed, and blood tracked down one side of her face. She spun, and when she thrust the spear up, she called a tangle of white, sizzling energy that hissed up the shaft and into the curve of the creature's neck.

"Valygar," she snapped. "Cover me."

Wordlessly, and without spoiling the vicious rhythm of his sword, the ranger complied. He slipped between her and the stumbling creature, and a single, raking sweep of the blade opened the creature's belly. There were too many of them, Jaheira thought, coldly desperate. Too many of them, and they were keeping her away from Melissan, and from Kera. They were being _corralled_, she knew, pushed away and separated. A fire spell blazed past her head, and she flinched. "Imoen!"

Jaheira whirled, and something very close to panic settled in her gut. The girl's bright hair clung to her face, damp and gleaming with sweat. Her hands glowed with the first surge of another spell, and she was alone.

Alone and hurtling across the rolling stone to where Kera grappled with Melissan.

The girl had been with Haer'Dalis, she was sure. She turned, and when she saw him, curled on his side and unmoving, the breath locked up in her lungs. Her hand slipped on the haft of her spear. She _needed_ to do something. Needed to help Imoen, needed to help Haer'Dalis before he bled out, before one of Melissan's creatures charged past the others.

Another fire spell flared and ploughed full-bore against Melissan's shoulder, and Jaheira saw the woman stumble. She dug her fingers harder against her spear and turned away. In six long strides, she reached the bard and knelt. "Haer'Dalis? Haer'Dalis, can you hear me?"

One hand flexed, and he grated, "Oh, still here, am I?"

"Stay still." She laid the spear down and fanned her hands over his shoulder. "I said stay _still_, you stubborn tiefling."

His head lolled against the ground. "Imoen," he said.

"She's fine." Jaheira let her eyes close. Cautiously, methodically, she marshaled the energy for the spell. Under her hands, she could feel the reeling waves of his pain. The spell sank silently beneath the tiefling's skin, and she heard him sigh. "Better?"

"Oh, yes. I have progressed from a dizzying agony so great that I could barely _move_, to the kind where I can muster half-decent words with which to express it."

"It's almost a shame it wasn't your throat that was cut."

"Oh, my wild ptarmigan. You wound me with your words."

"You're already torn apart enough, I think," she said, and the words fell flat and shaken. She summoned another spell. She pushed the sweat-sticky tangle of his hair to one side. Beneath, his face was ashen, and his pulse pounded just beneath his jaw. "Open your eyes."

"Leave me alone."

"Open your eyes," she ordered again, and somehow her voice stayed steady. She could hear the clamour of combat behind her, could hear Valygar snapping for Minsc to stay beside him. "Damn you, bard. I don't have time for this. Open your eyes."

Slowly, awkwardly, he obeyed. "Why?"

Jaheira cupped his chin and felt him flinch. "Stop talking."

She fumbled at her belt for the leather pouch that she kept the healing potions in, parts of it rubbed shiny with age. She wrestled the stopper off the first one with shaking fingers. Firmly, she ignored the glare he gave her over the blue curve of the bottle and jammed the neck between his teeth. Mercilessly, Jaheira did not move until he had drained that bottle and another. "Alright," she said, mostly to distract herself. The stone floor was glossy with the tiefling's blood. "I'm going to leave you more potions, and then…"

"Jaheira," he said, mildly reproachful. "Go and help yon young Bhaalspawn of ours and save my pretty skin later, yes?"

* * *

The song in her blood pulsed, and with every hammering stroke of her blade, it rose and soared. On her left side, she could feel the fierce, driving anger that was her sister. Some part of her remembered the dream, the dream of the stone shapes in the forest. Their words had rung sharp and painful, and she remembered them.

_The Children of Bhaal bring death to the land. _

She was aware of Amelyssan, and the rippling red flag of her hair. Her robes were gone, she was sure, and the woman had a sword – or was it two, or a staff? – and she twisted to meet each of Kera's strokes.

Something sharp dipped across her shoulder, and the slight brush of the pain did not startle her. Instead, she ducked beneath the weapon and whirled and rammed her pommel against Amelyssan's arm. The woman staggered, and her sister's spell shoved her back another pace. _What_, she wondered as she turned again, each movement instinctive and fast and incisive, _what would happen to this place after the woman's death? _

It was hers and her sister's now, she supposed. It was their place to stay, if they wished, and theirs to explore. They could count the strange, dazzling stars above or discover the patterns in the high, rolling slopes of the stone. They could listen to the faraway echoes of the world, and the chaos of it, and the terrible uncertainties of it.

_A god that once has been may be once again. _

Amelyssan's foot swept against her ankle, and she swayed. With brisk, meticulous timing, Kera recovered and leaped at her. She rolled beneath the biting edge of the woman's blade and spun. _But no_, she thought, as the flat of her sword snapped hard against Amelyssan's. The space here was _hers_, now, since her father was dead. The choice would be hers, and she wondered what her father may have thought of that, of _her_. She could take the emptiness here into herself and make it hers.

Amelyssan's mouth was moving, and Kera supposed she was speaking. She no longer cared, and in any case, she could hear little beyond the keening of the blood in her ears. Again she felt it, felt the gathering swirl of energy as her sister called up some spell. The surge of it shocked down her spine and she grinned when she saw the coin-bright arc of the flames. _Now_, she thought, and when Amelyssan staggered beneath the pressure of the spell, she leaped.

She ploughed shoulder-first into the woman, and hooked her free arm around her waist. She let the impetus carry them both over, and when Amelyssan's shoulders struck the ground, Kera rammed one knee into her belly. The woman twisted. Another spell bit into her, and she cried out. Kera caught her wrists and dragged them above her head. One of her hands wrenched free, and the woman's sword sketched a hot line across Kera's shoulder. Without thinking, Kera wrapped her hand over the woman's and forced her arm away. The point of the sword lodged and dragged, and she felt the wet heat of her own blood. Some blinding, sharp spell cracked against the blade and it juddered from Amelyssan's grip.

Kera smiled. She lowered her head to the white column of Amelyssan's neck, streaked with sweat and the red coils of her hair. She felt the rapid, uneven thud of the woman's pulse and the shuddering fear beneath.

* * *

Solaufein staggered beneath the punishing weight of the creature's arm. The claws grated and caught against the edge of his sword. Furiously, he spun, and the blade sawed into muscle and bone. The creature swayed away from him, and he followed, driving his sword into its chest until it toppled. He could _not_ keep this up, he knew with cold certainty. His shoulders ached, the slow, grinding pain of too much exertion endured too quickly. Sweat stung the grazes on the backs of his hands, the long gash on his forearm, the longer one that opened the side of his shin.

_No_, he thought. He _would_ keep going, keep moving, keep killing, for as long as needed.

_For as long as Kera needed. _

Past the rise of the slope, he could see them, the surfacer girl and her sister, as they held Melissan pinioned.

He wanted to run to her.

Solaufein growled and turned away. He was needed here, needed for as long as these strange, jagged creatures clambered up through the maw of the stone.

"Solaufein," Jaheira called. "Help, now!"

Mechanically, he complied. Every tendon down the back of his legs screamed at him to slow down. Instead, he increased his pace until he was beside the druid, his shoulder half-shielding hers when she stumbled. On his right side, Minsc spun his mace up and into another creature's lunging jaws. Flanking the druid's other side, Valygar frantically worked his sword between the creature's ribs.

"Jaheira," Valygar snarled.

"I know."

"Haer'Dalis?"

The druid shook her head. Her eyes closed, and the tangling, snapping vines she called up filled Solaufein's mouth with the fresh, soft scent of trees. The spell seethed around the creature, tugged it down, pinned it until three blows of Minsc's mace caved its skull in.

"More?" Valygar asked.

Solaufein shook his head. "No," he said, and kept his gaze on the dark split in the stone. He breathed in slowly, deeply. He rolled his shoulders, tried to ignore the twinge that ran down his spine. "Not yet."

When nothing emerged, he let himself look across to where Kera leaned over Melissan's prone form. Loose ribbons of dark hair spilled down the hard angles of her cheeks, and her eyes flamed. Warily, he stepped forward, and Jaheira grabbed his arm.

"Wait," she said, sternly.

"No."

"Help me with Haer'Dalis," she said. "Kera's fine. You can _see_ that she's fine. They're both fine."

"They're not."

"And you can't do anything to help either of them," the druid said, and her voice tightened. "They don't even know we're here. They don't _care_."

"No, I…" He wrestled with the urge to shove past the druid, to bolt over the blood-streaked stone. "You're right."

Grudgingly, he let Jaheira motion him away. He sheathed his sword, and winced when he heard the slide of the blood-fouled blade. He pushed his thoughts aside and knelt beside the tiefling. Briskly, he tugged off one glove and held his hand over the tiefling's parted lips.

"Stop that," Haer'Dalis muttered, thick and slurred.

"Forgive me," Solaufein responded, acerbic. "I thought it prudent to see if you were still alive."

"Very funny, my darkling."

He slipped one arm under the tiefling's shoulder. "Stand with me."

"I am not at all sure this will be anything _close_ to a success."

"Stop talking," Jaheira said. "Concentrate on standing."

Solaufein bit at the inside of his cheek and carefully, he rolled up to his feet, taking Haer'Dalis with him. He heard the tiefling's wet, gasping breath and held on. He waited while the tiefling leaned against him, while Jaheira braced his weight on his other side.

"Alright," Jaheira said. "I've got him."

Solaufein nodded, and did not let go until the blue light of a healing spell sank into the tiefling. Carefully, he stepped clear and at Jaheira's nod, tugged a healing potion from the pouch at her belt. He guided Haer'Dalis' mouth open and slowly poured the contents between his lips, and the bard's silence made his stomach tighten.

"Alright," Jaheira said again. "There's not much more I can do for now. Valygar, anything?"

"No."

"Nothing," Minsc added. "Perhaps the red-haired lady ran out of monsters."

Solaufein strode past the ranger. He heard Jaheira's shout to be careful. Seven steps took him nearer to the pool, nearer to Kera. In one smooth motion, he unsheathed his sword and closed the distance.

"Kera?" He paused, aware that his shoulders were rigid beneath his armour. She was not looking at him. _Neither_ of them were looking at him, and Imoen's eyes were full of the same fire. "Imoen? Kera?"

Imoen's fingers twisted in Melissan's red hair. Kera's head rested against the woman's shoulder, and with strange, feline grace, she stroked one hand along her shoulder. Quick, jerking breaths stirred Melissan's supine body, and her eyes flickered, blue and wide.

"Kera," he said, appalled. "She's still alive."

* * *

Beneath her ear, Amelyssan's heartbeat raged. Under her fingers, the woman's skin was clammy with her fear. She needed to end it, she supposed, needed to do what she had set out to do. But she could feel the woman's thwarted fury against her lips, and she smiled.

There were footsteps nearby, the din of heels against stone, and metal jangling, and she winced. Someone was speaking, and again the words fell flat and strange. She lifted her head and looked at her sister, and smiled. In response, her sister's hands cupped the back of Amelyssan's head.

"Don't," Amelyssan said. "Don't."

Kera said nothing. The taste of the song was too thick on her tongue, and besides, there was no need for words, not here. She spread her fingers against Amelyssan's throat. The woman's beautiful eyes flickered and rolled. She tried to thrash, tried to kick out, but she could not, not while Kera kept her pinioned.

It was as simple as breathing, this strength, these powers, and she let the woman struggle a moment longer.

"Don't. Don't do this. _Don't_. Kera, this is not," Amelyssan said, and her voice broke. "This was not meant to…_Don't_."

She let her fingers slide into the woman's throat and felt the choking halt of her breathing. The hot flood of blood on her skin made her smile, and she watched as the woman's eyes fluttered. Her mouth moved soundlessly.

She stayed like that, listening to the slow shudder of the woman's death.

"Kera," someone said, and a hand came down hard on her shoulder.

She recoiled. She blinked through the bright haze of her vision.

"Is she dead?"

She nodded. "Yes." She fought for more words, and added, "Father's strength is in her. Needs to be let go."

"How?"

She shrugged. She let her hand curl in the wet ruin of the woman's throat.

"Kera," he said again. "What do we need to do? How do we make it end?"

She made herself look at him and realised that he was a drow, the coal-coloured planes of his face severe beneath snowy hair. He was clad in black armour, and she could smell the sharp tang of his blood, welling through long gashes on his leg and his arms and his shoulder.

"This is what I was meant to do," she said.

"Yes. Yes, it was. But how do we finish it?"

_Finish it,_ she thought, and wondered what that meant. She could stay here, she supposed. She could stay here with her sister, and they could learn their father's place together. They could learn it as they should, together and without the treacherous presence of the dead woman or the black-garbed drow.

"Kera," the drow said. "Melissan is dead. You've succeeded. You need to come back to yourself."

"Melissan," she repeated.

"You have said that you do not want to lose yourself to this," he said, and knelt, foolishly close. "Come back to yourself, Kera. We can find a way to finish this."

Behind his shoulder, she saw movement, more people, their footfalls uncertain against the stone. Why were they here, she wondered, and what would they do?

"You told me," he said. "You told me you hoped to do this. That you could do this and not lose yourself."

"Why are you here?"

"Because I told you that you would not face this alone."

"Did you?"

"Yes," he said fiercely.

_Finish it,_ she thought again. She rested her hand beneath Amelyssan's chin and watched as the blood filled her palm. The swell and rush she could feel was _not_ Amelyssan's. Borrowed power, borrowed strength, and it was an offence to this place and to Bhaal and it was no less than treachery. She lowered her hands into the pool. Amelyssan's blood twisted in the water, swirling ribbons. Slowly, methodically, Kera scooped up handfuls of the shining water and let it sluice across the dead woman's face, the dead woman's neck, the dead woman's hands. The copper tang of it filled her mouth and her nose. Another handful damped the Amelyssan's red hair, and droplets caught like small jewels between her eyelashes.

"What," the drow said. "What are you doing, Kera?"

"Taking the strength she stole."

The drow reached for her, and she hissed and recoiled. Water ran in thick glassy lines down her wrists.

"It's not hers," she said. "She was given it. It needs to go back."

"What happens then?" the drow asked. "What happens to you?"

She turned away from him. She let the water spill through her hands again and closed her eyes. She lifted her damp fingertips to her mouth and tasted it, the last of the gifts her father had given the dead woman.

Insistent, hard fingers closed on hers and drew her hand away from her lips. She tried to yank away, and the drow murmured, "No."

She looked at his hand, twined around hers, and realised that he must have pulled his gloves off. His obsidian skin was warm, the soft parts between his fingers slick with sweat. Curiously, she turned his hand over so that she could see the small scars that ran over the backs of his knuckles. She balanced the weight of his palm against hers. "I can smell myself on you," she said, and wondered why. She traced her thumb across the back of his wrist. "Can you?"

"Yes," the drow answered, and his voice thickened. "Yes, I can."

Something bright flared somewhere behind the drow, and she shielded her eyes. She wanted to turn away from him and curl herself beside Amelyssan and listen to the soft echoes of her father's strength.

"Child," someone else said, and the voice sliced into her. "Child, you stood before me and you asked me if it could be done. You were afraid, and now, you are halfway to losing yourself to your blood. Do you remember?"

She spun away, and buried her face between crossed arms. "What more would you have me do?"

"_Listen_. Look upon me and _listen_."

The anger swelled again, and she shoved up to her feet. The blaze of white light met her, and a woman crowned with fire. Wings rose above her shoulders, ivory and gleaming.

"I know you," she muttered, before she could help herself. "You're…you're in my dreams."

"I have walked this path alongside you," the woman said. "I have helped you and taken you through the trials of your heritage. We have spoken of this time, this choice that is yours."

"What choice?"

"_This_ choice," the woman said. "What becomes of your blood, god-child? What becomes of you, now? Will you remain here and take the throne that was your father's? Would you leave this place, and remain a mortal, and only a mortal?"

_Stay here_, she thought, and the anger subsided slightly. _Stay here and remain here and take all of it. _All _of it, as it should be. _She dug her fingers against the stone and said, "How is it a choice?"

"Because that is what you wanted of it. You stood before me and swore you wanted nothing more than your own life. Your father's return to be stopped, your enemy vanquished, and your freedom."

It was _hers_, this place and its powers. _Hers_ by the virtue of the blood in her body, and _hers_ by right of conquest. "And Amelyssan?" she asked.

"What gifts she claimed from this place have been returned," the woman said. "They were never truly hers, god-child, and you have taken them from her."

"Sister," Kera said, unevenly. "What do you…?"

"Please," her sister said. Her face turned to the woman, and her eyes were flooded. "Please. I don't want it. I don't want it again. I don't want any more of it."

"You are certain, god-child?"

"Please," her sister said again. "After Melissan, I mean, after she died, I felt it, and I don't want it."

Very gently, the woman touched her sister's forehead, and Kera saw her sister shudder. Her hands flew to her hair, twisting through the unkempt tresses. Her eyes opened, hazel and limpid with tears. _That_, Kera thought almost absently, _that must be what her sister truly looked like. _Pale and thin and young, and with her shoulders hunched under the folds of her tunic.

"Please, Kera," her sister said. "Please let it go."

She turned away. She wanted the wind against her face again, the wind that was full of the same song. _Her freedom_, the woman all made of light had said. _Her freedom_, and she understood that meant her freedom _away_ from here.

Away from the song that made her thoughts fly apart.

_Imoen_, she thought. Her sister's name was Imoen. She heard them somewhere behind her, some of them moving, and some of them talking. Their voices were low and tired and _known_. The drow would be with them, and she remembered his words, soft and slightly accented.

_Because I told you that you would not face this alone_.

Silently, she knelt beside the pool. She dipped her hand beneath the surface and watched as the water rushed into her palm, warm and silver.

_You told me you hoped you could do this. _

His name was Solaufein, and she tried to say it out loud, tried to frame the lyrical shape of it. She lifted her hand and watched as the bright droplets streamed through her fingers.

_The darkness down here was unbroken, and her borrowed drow eyes picked out the scuffs and ridges on the stone near her feet. Beside her, the drow commander moved silently, each step purposeful and predatory. _

"_Did your friends find trouble?"_

"_No. For once," she added. _

_He did not smile. He did not trust her, and inwardly, she did not blame him. He had her promise and a strange allegiance and her presence as surety, and nothing else. _

_"Stop."_

_She obeyed, listening, and heard the small noises of footsteps in the darkness. "Soldiers?"_

"_Yes. Stay beside me." _

_She opened her mouth to retort, but he was already moving, already sliding his sword free. He spun and carved his way through the soldiers until their armour gleamed with their own blood. She recognized Ardulace's symbol on their clothes. _

"_Are you alright? Kera?"_

_His accent made music of her name, and stupidly, she found herself smiling. _

Slowly, she lifted cupped hands to her mouth. Her tongue traced along the trembling surface of the water.

_The leaves fell thick and crackling and fast in the wind that whipped over the wall. She chased Imoen's darting shape, and when her heel slipped against a half-crushed apple, she staggered. She heard her friend's shrieking laughter and quickened her pace. She jumped at her and tackled her to the ground and wrested the cider bottle from her hands. _

"_Mine," she said, and jerked the bottle away from Imoen's questing fingers. "Mine to prove honour restored."_

"_Honour? What honour?"_

_She tugged the stopper out with her teeth. The cider flooded her mouth, crisp and clear and cool. "Mine, obviously."_

"_Kera," Imoen said, and groaned. "You're awful." _

"_I know. You want some?"_

She swallowed, and the water filled her throat.

_She paused by the half-open door. She could smell dust and new ink and the delicious scent of fresh bread. "Father?"_

_He nudged the door open properly with his heel. "Come in, Kera."_

_Inside, she discovered the table scattered with books and unrolled parchment and two huge maps. She touched the jagged edge of a thickly-drawn coastline with one finger. "Where is this?"_

"_A long way away," her father answered, and smiled. _

"_You wanted to see me?"_

"_Yes." The shadows in his eyes were gone, and the laughter lines beneath his stubble deepened. "Do you want to share breakfast with me?" _

Beneath the surface of the water, her hand seemed to ripple. She could see the rough pads of her fingertips, the spreading curls of scars. There were more on the other side, and Irenicus had put them there, she remembered.

_Amid the damp spill of the sheets, Solaufein explored her hand between both of his. His thumb arced over the curve of her wrist bone. "Beautiful."_

"_You say that too much."_

"_Too much? I could stop, if you wish." _

_She laughed. "I like it." _

_Later, they lay there, tangled around each other. She was half on her side, with his head against the curve of her hip. One of her legs was tilted over his shoulder, and he trailed his fingers along the inside of her thigh. _

"_Solaufein?"_

"_Yes?"_

"_I like this." _

"Please," she said, and the word lodged in her mouth. She battled for her next breath, and through the roaring in her blood, she said, "I don't want it."

The woman touched the back of her head. "You are certain?"

"Yes," she managed, and something twisted inside her, something sharp and biting. "_Please_."

The woman's fingers ghosted over her hair, and she felt it, soft and silent, felt it as the anger fled. Pain rushed in to take its place, the driving sting of small wounds and larger ones and the steady pulse of her own blood on her side and her shoulder.

Between one breath and the next, she _changed. _

Kera shuddered, and wrapped her arms around herself. Somewhere inside she felt _empty_, hollowed out. She found the ragged edge of a long gash just beneath her ribs. She tried to breathe in steadily and failed. Her throat closed up, and she shut her eyes against a sudden swell of tears.

Blindly, she reached out with one hand. "Solaufein?"

She did not hear him move, and when he touched her arm, she flinched. She fought past the awful, wrenching urge to shove away from him. Very gently, he clasped her hand and guided her to her feet. He did not try to turn her, did not try to make her see the others, or the woman and her molten eyes.

Close to frightened, Kera opened her eyes. She was no longer herself, not really, and what would he think? The strange, coiling emptiness in her tightened, and she blinked until she could no longer see him properly through brimming tears. Silently, he drew her against him, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. She sobbed, burying her face against his neck. Her whole frame shook. Each gasping breath tore through her. His hands cupped over her shoulders, pulling her tight against him. When she subsided, she clung to him, and he murmured her name.

"I'm here," Solaufein said, and it was almost enough.


	43. Nightfall

_As always, thank you so much to everyone who's following this story. Reviews are always welcome. _

_**Chapter Forty-Three – Nightfall**_

In Solaufein's arms, Kera was stiff and shaking, her hands knotted awkwardly at the nape of his neck. He did not let go, only shifted to gather her closer. He wanted to lift her face to his, wanted to kiss her until she smiled. Instead, he murmured into her ear, "Kera? Kera, we need to go."

"Go? Where?"

"Back to Amkethran."

"Amkethran," she said, muffled against his shoulder. "Yes. I remember."

"We need to go," he said, more insistent. "Haer'Dalis is very badly hurt."

"Haer'Dalis?" Clumsily, she straightened up. She looked at him through brown eyes that were bloodshot and troubled and very much her own. "Where?"

Solaufein guided her back across the rolling stone and watched as her eyes widened. Propped between Jaheira and Imoen, the bard breathed shallowly and too fast, and his eyes were half-closed.

"Oh, no. No. Haer'Dalis, no," she said, and her hands twisted together. "I'm sorry, I didn't know, I didn't…"

"Later," Jaheira cut across her. "I need him lying down and safe. We need to get out of here."

"Yes." She gulped down another breath. "Yes. I can…how? How can I? I just, I mean…I just gave it away."

"God-child," the solar said, and her voice was grave. "You may leave, and it will be the last time you see this place."

"Yes," Kera said. "I don't, I mean…"

The fierce planes of the solar's face softened slightly. "You are welcome, god-child, and you have done well."

Kera nodded and said nothing. Her eyelids flickered, swollen and leaking tears. She rubbed one hand along the side of her shoulder. "We should go, then?"

The solar inclined her head and answered, "And so you shall, god-child."

Kera's head turned, and she gazed soundlessly at the pool, at the spill of bright water against the curve of the stone there. She took a single, swaying step.

Solaufein closed the distance between them again, and when the ground disappeared, he wrapped both arms around her waist and hauled her against his chest. He gritted his teeth through the dreadful, lurching moment of disorientation. His feet slammed hard against floorboards and he staggered, jolting Kera against his shoulder. The darkness resolved into walls and half-open curtains and the bright line of the sunlight between.

"Oh," Imoen said, and laughed nervously. "My room, then. How specific."

Brusquely, Jaheira helped Haer'Dalis across to the bed. "Minsc, are you badly hurt?"

"Not badly. What does the singer need?"

"Cloths and warm water. See if the innkeeper has any potions. If not, go to the marketplace."

The big ranger nodded. "As quickly as we can, then."

"Valygar?" Jaheira asked.

"I'll live."

"Later," Solaufein said, when her stern gaze leveled at him. "I will be alright."

Jaheira snorted. She hooked out a potion bottle and flung it at him. "Get Kera cleaned up. Imoen?"

"Staying here," the girl said, and folded her arms. "And no, I'm not going to argue with you."

"Kera," Solaufein said gently, and steered her away from the bed. "Kera. Come with me."

"But Haer'Dalis…"

"He will be fine. Jaheira will help him." He scooped her hand into his. "Come on."

Wordlessly, she complied. She let him lead her down the corridor and into their room. He closed the door and turned to find her standing in the patch of sunlight, her hands held palm-up. She stared at her wrists and murmured, "Solaufein, am I still the same?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "Your heritage is gone. Your blood is mortal, now. Entirely mortal."

"You don't mind?"

"Why would I mind?" He crossed the floor. "You are here. _That_ is what matters. You are _here_."

One corner of her mouth moved. "I feel strange."

"What do you mean?"

"Strange. Hollow."

He did not know what to say to that, so he unbuckled his swordbelt and laid it aside. He followed with hers, and when he knelt to unlace her boots, she did not object. Piece by piece, he shed his armour and winced when he tugged at the long slice on his calf. Quietly firm, he made her share the contents of the healing potion.

"You're filthy," he told her wryly. "Bath?"

"You'll come with me, won't you?"

Something in her hushed, hesitant tone lanced through him. "Oh, Kera. Of course I will."

* * *

With aching fingers, Jaheira sliced open the tiefling's tunic. Beneath, his shirt was heavy with blood. "Imoen," she said tersely. "Make him drink another one."

The girl obeyed, shaking hands slipping beneath the tiefling's chin. She coaxed his mouth open and held his head in place while she emptied the bottle into his throat. The dregs made him splutter, and his head twisted to one side.

Jaheira ignored him and pushed the damp ruin of his shirt to one side. Beneath, she saw how her stopgap efforts had half-healed the awful wound that carved between his hip and the end of his breastbone.

"Oh, gods," Imoen muttered, and swallowed. "How did he stay awake and…gods."

"Another one," she ordered. She closed her eyes and waited while the girl wrestled with the bottle. She spread her hands above the tiefling's chest and felt the shallow rise and fall of his breathing, the way each breath fought past his lips.

"Done," Imoen said.

Slowly, carefully, she felt the surge of the spell as it gathered. She was tired, bone-deep and wrung through, and could not waste it, not now. Desperately, she guided the flood of the energy until her hands shook.

"Oh," Imoen murmured. "You're…I've never seen you do it like that before."

She opened her eyes and grimaced. The edges of the wound were angry still, red and shining, but the skin between was knitted. "Imoen, I need you to stay with him."

"Me?"

"Yes. He's better, but he needs to sleep. Clean him up if you want, and just let him rest. Come and find me if anything changes."

"Changes?"

"If he starts to look worse. If you need to wake him and can't."

"Oh. Yes." Imoen nodded uncertainly. "I can do that."

"I'll be close by," she said. "I need to check on Minsc and Valygar."

"Oh. Yes."

"Imoen," she said. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I mean, I just." The girl shook her head. "I just. Oh, gods. Jaheira, I was Kera's friend then Kera's sister and now I'm not and I feel strange. You know the strangest thing?"

"No."

"I feel like I just want to keep _doing_ something. Anything. Just so I won't have to turn around and think about it. So I won't have to think about Melissan or Bhaal or Kera or anything. Does that make any kind of sense?"

Jaheira smiled without much warmth. She remembered that day in Athkatla, when she had bundled Kera and Minsc and Yoshimo into the tavern, when she had tried not to think about her lost charge, tried _so desperately_ not to think about Khalid. "Yes, child," she said, gentler. "It does."

* * *

Solaufein worked soap into the long, unbound spill of Kera's hair and tried not to wonder at her silence. She sat shoulder-deep in the steaming water, her hands below the surface, and numbly, she watched as he stripped the grime from her hair. He motioned her forward and filled the dipper and sluiced away the suds. He shifted where he sat shirtless on the edge of the tub and asked, "May I join you?"

She blinked slowly. "Yes."

He pushed his leggings down and kicked them to one side, and some perturbed part of his mind noted that she was barely looking at him. She _liked_ looking at him, and he knew that because she had told him, told him so often, told him while the flush of their pleasure was still on her face, crimson and soft.

He sat opposite her, sinking into the water and groaning slightly at the heat of it. His foot brushed hers and she flinched.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Did you say something?"

"No."

She nodded. She sat wordlessly, her eyes pinned on some point behind his shoulder, and her eyes wide with distance. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"What's left?"

He paused and weighed his thoughts, and answered, "I don't know."

"I'm just…this is all I've ever known, I think. This birthright that I don't have anymore."

"Kera."

"No, it's true. I was only at Candlekeep because of it. Now it's gone. What's left?"

"You," he said fiercely. "You are left, and it is you that I want."

"Just me?"

"Just you," he said. "It was not Bhaal's daughter who came to me in Suldenessellar. It was you."

"You're only saying that because that was before everything went wrong."

"It's still true, either way. It was you."

She nodded again. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Can I wash your hair?"

"Yes."

She did, slowly and gracelessly, her hands bumping against his ears and his jaw. She worked the ties out of his braids and plied them apart. She took her time, and she kept her gaze on the wet waves of his hair, on the rings in his ears. Her fingers shook against his cheekbones. Too quickly, she rinsed the soap away, and he blinked through stinging runnels of water.

"Oh," she said, and the corners of her mouth moved. "Sorry."

"You aren't," he protested mildly.

"Well, maybe a little. You looked very ridiculous for a moment there."

"Only for a moment?"

"Naturally." She touched the sodden fall of his hair. "Solaufein, do you still want this?"

"What are you asking me?"

"I'm serious," she said, and her gaze darted away again. Her hand slipped down to his chest. "I don't…it was terrible. That place was terrible. So was I."

"Kera." He covered her hand with his. "It is over."

"Yes, but…"

"I am going nowhere."

"Stubborn man."

"I'm not a man. I'm a drow."

"You're similar enough." She smiled and cupped his ear. "Different enough, as well. Are you really sure?"

"I'm sitting naked in a bath with you, surfacer girl. What do you think?"

"Yes, but you're a drow, as you keep reminding me," she remarked, and her smile lightened her eyes. "And I've heard all sorts of stories about drow, so that doesn't mean much at all, does it?"

He laughed, and the wrenching relief of it shook through him. "That is a very bad joke."

"Forgive me?"

"Always," he said, and fiercely, he drew her against him. Her wet skin slid against his, and he heard the hitch in her breathing. "Always."

* * *

Haer'Dalis woke to the grey haze of the walls, and the brush of warm air against his skin. He breathed in, and mercifully smelled nothing more offensive than soap and tea and the tang of healing potions.

"Haer'Dalis?"

"Mmm." He turned his head, and waited until the shapeless blur near the window turned into Imoen, sitting on the chair with her arms wrapped around her shins. "Yes."

"You're alright?"

"I would hazard that I am _alive_, so yes, I suppose so." He shifted, and his breath caught. "_Oh_."

"Hurts?"

"I am fine."

"Liar."

"As you would have it. I am dying, vanquished, nay, _wallowing_ in my unspeakable agony."

"Be quiet."

He grinned and stayed silent until the pain subsided to a dull, gnawing ache. "My swords?"

"On the floor by the table. I was tempted to leave them there in the middle of Bhaal's favourite little place just to see the look on your face."

Her voice was tight and terse, as if the slightest wrong word might shatter her. He opened his eyes again and looked at her properly. She seemed so small, hunched on the chair, and her eyes were too bright. "Wildflower," he said, admonishing.

"I'm fine."

"You lie far worse than I do, my dear."

"I just…" She shrugged. She hopped off the chair, and each step she took was nervous and taut. "It always happened to Kera, not to me. I believed her when she said it was so hard, I really did. But when I felt it, I couldn't…I didn't mean to…"

"Sit down," he told her. "I beg you. My head is whirling just _trying_ to follow you. Sit down and stay still, if only out of pity, yes?"

She barked out a laugh. "You're awful."

"Mmm. Yes. I know. Sit." Each word fell awkwardly from his tongue, and he could hear the roughness in his own voice. Part of him wondered how long it would be until he could carry a decent tune again, but he supposed letting himself heal would prove distraction enough.

The bed shifted when she sat near his feet, and he heard the quick, uneven rasp of her breathing. "This is my fault," Imoen said. "You like this, I mean. I didn't listen to you."

"When have you _ever_ listened to me, wildflower?"

"I don't normally nearly get you killed." Her head lifted, and her hazel eyes were wide and wild. "I just…Haer'Dalis, I didn't _care_. That was the worst part. All I wanted was Melissan's blood on my hands and my sister helping me and you were in my way. I didn't care what happened to you, or any of the others."

"Imoen."

"No, listen. I didn't…you could've bled out. You _would_ have if we'd been there longer. And I…I just wanted to _kill_ her. Make it as painful as it possibly could be. And now I'm wondering if that's how it's _always_ felt like for Kera, and I just never understood." She gulped down another breath, and as fast, she added, "That's the worst part. Not just that I was so stupid, but that I _knew_ what would happen to you, and I did it anyway. I didn't care."

"My wildflower," he said, mildly. "Is this helping, at all?"

"Yes. No. A little. Just shut up and listen, will you?"

"It seems I have little choice."

"It was like the sea," she said. "It was like the sea was in my veins. I couldn't _do_…it was just _me_. I never want to feel like that again. I'm so sorry."

He shifted, and the drag of the sheets against his bare chest made him cringe. "Come here."

She complied, and he could see her shoulders shaking even as she curled herself beside him. Her fingers caught and clenched against the edge of the pillow. Very gently, Haer'Dalis covered both of her hands with one of his, and said, "There is nothing to forgive, and I will hear no more apologies, yes?"

She laughed, a hiccupping, uneven sort of laugh. "Even though it was my fault that your tunic and leathers got sliced in half?"

"Leathers can be replaced. The tunic was neither my favourite colour nor my preferred style."

"What _is_ your favourite colour?"

"It changes, like my moods and like the weather. I have been informed on more than one occasion that black is a little severe for my colouring, though blue apparently suits me."

"Haer'Dalis?"

"Mmm?"

"Be quiet."

* * *

The tavern door swung, and the cool evening wind touched Jaheira's face and the tangle of her hair where it fell in thick coils past her shoulders. Beneath her clothes, she was clean, and the fabric was crisp, but even so, her skin prickled. She closed her eyes and listened to the normal, disinterested sounds of the taproom, the click of the serving-girls' heels against the floor, the innkeeper's gruff shout, the thud of the door closing again.

None of them knew, she thought. Not the girl with her dragging skirts or the merchants near the window or the mercenaries in the smallest corner. _None_ of them knew what had happened in Bhaal's sanctum, and she supposed they never would.

She found Valygar and Minsc at the square table on the far side of the taproom.

"You are looking very tired," Minsc said, and pushed his half-finished plate across to her. "Eat something. The girl said she would be back with more food, but it is busy tonight."

Jaheira tried to smile and it faltered. Instead, she nodded, and scooped up a thick chunk of bread. "Are you both alright?"

"Jaheira," Valygar said. "You need to rest. I've already slept half the afternoon away. What about you?"

"Haer'Dalis," she said, and shrugged. "I didn't much feel like sleeping, either."

"No," Minsc said, thoughtfully. "Every time my eyes close, I see that place."

Unspoken, the girls' names floated between them, the young women who had been daughters of Bhaal. Slowly, Jaheira bit into the bread. She kept her eyes on the table. Mercifully, neither of them asked her useless questions and neither of them commented when she grabbed at the wine jug and poured herself a generous helping. The wine was sweet and slightly sickly and burned down her throat when she swallowed.

Later, when the lamps glowed at the windows, and after the innkeeper's girl returned with another platter, Jaheira stared at her hands and realised that they were trembling slightly.

"Jaheira," Minsc said, very gently. "Go and rest. You might be tired enough that the dreams don't bother you."

"Yes," she answered, and tried to search for something else to say, anything else that would change the ranger's soft expression. "You're right."

She made it halfway up the stairs before she stumbled. She grasped at the banister and held on until her fingers dug hard against the chipped wood. She paused outside the tiefling's room and listened, and when she heard nothing, she unlocked the door and slid in, carefully.

Moonlight lanced in through the half-open curtains and painted bright lines across the floorboards and the chair and Imoen where she lay curled like a cat at the foot of the bed. Her head was pillowed on crossed arms, and she breathed evenly and slowly. The tiefling lay at the other end, and beneath the lines and arcs of his markings, his sleeping face was waxen. As carefully, Jaheira slipped back out into the corridor. She halted near Kera's door, and something very like trepidation lodged in her belly. She hesitated again, and knocked softly.

When the door opened, revealing nothing more threatening than Solaufein, shirtless and barefoot, a strange, relieved kind of guilt rushed through her. "Is she alright?"

"She's exhausted."

"Do you need anything? Has she eaten?"

"She wouldn't." The drow let the door click shut behind him. "She can be stubborn."

"I know. Sometimes that can be a good thing."

He pushed one hand into the loose tumble of his hair. "Only sometimes?"

"Solaufein," she said. She looked at him, and thought she could see heavy shadows beneath his eyes, in the tight line of his jaw. "_Is_ she alright?"

"I don't know."

She nodded. "In the morning, let me know if…well, if she needs anything to help her sleep. And try and make her eat something tomorrow."

"I will."

"Solaufein, I…"

"Yes?"

Jaheira shook her head. "Nothing. I…let me know how she is tomorrow."

Something softened in the drow's red eyes. "Of course."

She waited until he stepped back across the threshold and the shadows swallowed him. She made her way to the small room she usually shared with Imoen and sat on the edge of her bed. Awkwardly, she kicked her boots off. She tugged the curtains open until the moonlight chased the darkness away. For a long, aching moment, she stared down at her own hands, laced over her knees.

She needed to rest. She needed to push aside her thoughts. She needed to marshal herself and let herself sink into sleep.

Silently and still clothed, Jaheira curled herself under the sheets and wept until her throat was raw and the pillow turned damp beneath her face.

* * *

Solaufein sat on the windowseat, Kera curled between his raised knees, and his gaze on the fall of moonlight outside. Idly, his fingers twisted through her hair. She was clad in a long, trailing grey shirt, and he could see the rigid set of her shoulders.

She leaned her head against the inside of his right knee and murmured, "Are you tired?"

"A little."

"Go to bed if you need to."

"Do you want me to?"

She hesitated, and eventually, she said, "Stay here?"

"For as long as you need."

A shudder ran through her. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"When we were there," she said, and stopped. "What did I look like?"

"Like yourself but not," he answered. He combed his fingers through the unbound wealth of her hair again and added, "You were full of power, there. I could see it in you. You moved like…you moved like a snake."

Her shoulders shifted in a gasped-out laugh. "A snake? Thank you, I think."

"Your eyes were on fire."

"My eyes?"

"Your eyes were golden," he said gently. "Full of fire."

"Were you frightened?"

"I was frightened _for_ you. I didn't…I did not know what you would do. Whether you would choose to stay there."

"What if I had?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. Carefully, he slipped his arms around her waist. "I would not…I don't know. I did not want you to."

"No?"

"_No_." He rested his chin on her shoulder. "I did not want to lose you."

"You wouldn't have lost me. I would have just become something else."

"In the place of a _god_," Solaufein said, and heard the frayed note in his own voice. "What place would there have been for me then? Kera, that place was Bhaal's. If it had become yours, you would have been there alone. Powerful, but alone."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't. I simply…I prefer you like this," he said, desperately. "I do not know how else to say it. I do not _know_ how to put it into words. I prefer you here with me. I prefer you with brown eyes."

She rolled her forehead against the inside of his thigh. Her hand plucked absently at the fabric of his leggings, at the creases just beneath his knee. "You still want this?"

"Kera." Close to frustrated, he clenched his fingers in her hair. "_Where_ have you taken this idea that I will leave you from? _Why_ would I? You're still a surfacer, and that has never before made me consider leaving you."

"There's nothing for us to do, now. It's done. It's over."

"There is always _something_ to do."

"It won't be the same."

"You mean we won't be facing the determined attacks of your siblings? We won't be cajoled along the steps of a prophecy?"

She flicked his leg and muttered, "You are making fun of me."

"Never," he responded, and smiled against her neck. "Kera, I have been proud to stand with you through this. And now that you are free of it, I wish to enjoy you as you are now."

Kera turned, twisting awkwardly until she was wrapped around his chest, her face nestled just beneath his jaw. "Do you mean that?"

She said nothing else, and when her shoulders shook, Solaufein did not press her, did not ask. He closed his arms around her and breathed her in, moon-washed skin and loose hair and _herself_. He felt the trembling pressure of her mouth against his collarbone and held her tighter. "Yes," he said. "I mean that."


	44. Daybreak

_Here it is, the penultimate chapter of this story. The last one will (probably) be somewhat shorter. A huge thank you to everyone who's followed along with this story; your support is, as always, very much appreciated. Reviews are always welcome, and I own little. _

_**Chapter Forty-Four – Daybreak**_

Three days later, the taproom was almost deserted, and the sunlight lancing through the high windows threw pale squares onto the floor. Kera discovered the tiefling bard in the corner, his hands clasped near a half-empty tankard. She slipped onto the stool opposite him, and he raised one eyebrow.

"My raven," Haer'Dalis said. "What has you out of bed and away from your lover's warm arms this morning?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"Could you? I have no lovers, not at the moment. I am sadly bereft."

"And yet still arrogant enough to use a plural."

"Naturally." He rested his chin on one folded hand. "My raven, you look exhausted. Why are you here?"

She shrugged. "Couldn't sleep. How are you? I mean, really?"

"Breathing," he said, and smirked. "Settle in with me and make a drunkard's morning of it, why don't you? I can almost guarantee that two rounds of the innkeeper's finest will have you forgetting all your troubles." When she did not smile, Haer'Dalis frowned. "Has my shine worn off so swiftly? Can I raise a single smile perhaps?"

"Sorry," she said. "I'm terrible company. I'll leave you to your thoughts."

"No, my raven. You need not leave."

"I need a favour," she blurted.

"A favour? Well, some favours I do not hand out freely." He spread his hands, and his grin widened. "I prefer my ladies lush and painted and not entirely capable of taking my head off with a sword. I hope you will forgive my refusal here and now."

She laughed. "Remind me again why I haven't asked you to take your dreadful sense of humour and remove yourself and it from my life?"

"Because I am too dazzling." The tiefling's smile softened. "Now, tell me. What is this favour of yours?"

"I want your advice about jewelry."

"Jewelry? Is there a maiden deserving of some glittering attention?"

"No," she answered lightly. "But…I want to take some silver to a jeweler and have him make something, and I thought you might be able to help me find one."

"Ah. Someone vaguely trustworthy?"

"Yes. Someone vaguely trustworthy enough to make me some rings that will be quite…pleasing to drow eyes."

"Oh?" Haer'Dalis grinned. "A gift, is it?"

"Yes. Laugh at me and I'll tell Jaheira something awful about you."

"Oh, I am not laughing, my raven. I wouldn't. Couldn't. May I ask why I have been chosen for this honour?"

"Because no one else _apart_ from Solaufein would know anything about it."

"A compliment, or an insult? My raven, you spoil me for choice."

She bit her lip and could not quite quell an absurd rush of trepidation. "You'll help?"

"Of course I shall. Think on what you wish, and together we will storm forth and emerge victorious. Or some such," he added, and his eyes sparkled.

Too quickly, she thanked him again, and tried not to look at how awkwardly he sat, his usual poise spoiled by the way he was hunched over slightly on the stool. Kera fled outside, and the bright flare of the sunlight flooded her eyes and blinded her. She waited until the glare faded and unclenched her hands.

Slowly, meandering, she made her way up the path that curved behind the tavern, to the high flat shelf of rock. The wind twined the dust there, and the air against her tongue was dry and hot already.

When she noticed Imoen, she stopped. Her sister – her friend, her companion, her accomplice, whatever she was now – was sprawled against the smooth plane of a low rock, her face tilted up to the blue bowl of the sky.

Imoen moved first, shifting up to wrap her arms around her knees. "Hey."

"Hey," Kera echoed.

"Going to join me?"

"You don't mind?"

Imoen shrugged. "Haven't seen you for a few days."

"I've been trying to sleep."

"Mmm. Jaheira said that."

Kera swallowed. She hopped up on the rock beside Imoen. "Not too warm yet."

"No. Haer'Dalis is better. Jaheira healed him again yesterday. He's got a spectacular scar, but he'll be alright."

"Good."

Imoen's shoulders bowed as she leaned forward. "So have you and Solaufein been doing unspeakably deviant things to each other, then?"

"Would it make you feel worse or better if I admitted that the most exciting thing we've done since we got back is sleep next to each other?"

"Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Kera said.

"Just go ravage him."

"Ravish."

"Whichever." Imoen shrugged. "Maybe you're right. _Ravage_ sounds rather painful. Unless he likes that, of course."

"Imoen," she said, and her friend's name caught on her tongue. "Can I ask you something?"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"How could you give it up so easily?"

Imoen inhaled sharply. "I didn't…you know when we killed Melissan?"

"I killed Melissan."

"I helped. I held her down." Imoen's fingers twisted together, scarred and nicked and thin. "I didn't…I felt her die. I _felt_ it, Kera. In every inch of me. _Everywhere_. It was _part _of me. I didn't want that. I didn't want anything to do with it. That was the strangest part. One moment I was quite happy to sit there and pin her down and watch you kill her, and the next, the whole thing made me want to run screaming."

"Yes."

"Did it always feel like that for you? Whenever you killed someone?"

"No," she said honestly. "It felt slightly like that. Worse if it was another Bhaalspawn. But Amelyssan – Melissan – it was…she had something of mine and it wasn't hers. And I wanted to hurt her for it."

"So," Imoen said, and kicked her heel against the ground. "We still sisters?"

Kera grinned, and the relief that broke through her was sharp and lancing. "Why not? You're still annoying enough to be my little sister, after all."

"Why should I be the little sister? I'm almost your age."

"_Almost_."

"Fine," Imoen said, and snorted. "Idiot."

"Brat." She leaned into her sister's shoulder, felt the reassuring warmth of her. "Imoen?"

"Mmm?"

"You're wonderful."

"I know." Almost lazily, Imoen tugged at the trailing end of her sister's braid. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"We should have dinner tonight in that small courtyard behind the tavern. The little one with all the lamps."

"Dinner?"

"Yes, that big meal at the end of the day commonly shared with friends," Imoen said, and giggled. "All of us together. Then maybe we could do some talking. What do you think?"

"I think," Kera answered, and tried to ignore the strange, wrenching lightness in her belly. "I think that sometimes your ideas are not entirely dreadful."

* * *

The sunset turned the small courtyard golden, and the imprisoned heat of the day rose from the high stone walls. Kera sat with her hands around a slender wine cup and her shoulder against Solaufein's and listened as Imoen teased Minsc. Jaheira sat on her other side, her attention focused on the table.

Her mouth was full of the heavy scent of cloves and lightly blackened lamb. She dipped her spoon into the bowl of yellow rice and smiled when her sister retorted, "_No_, I didn't. I drank _one_ carafe of wine, and the other stuff was gin. I think."

"You think?"

"Well, it's not like I really remember."

Solaufein laughed, and Imoen glared mildly at him.

"Oh, like you've never drank yourself stupid in the thousand years or so you've been alive?"

"Somewhat over a hundred," he corrected, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Not a thousand. And rarely, because my desire to stay alive when I was in Ust Natha far outweighed my desire for a crippling hangover."

"Far too sensible. Even for a drow. _Especially_ for a drow, since aren't you all meant to enjoy things that are decadent?"

"Two bottles of wine is decadent," Haer'Dalis said. "Three is an invitation for trouble and four, well. All I recall with any clarity is silk sheets and how cold the inside of the windowpane was."

Almost despite herself, Kera laughed. She settled herself properly against Solaufein's chest and felt his slow, pleased exhalation.

"I think," Imoen said. "I think I shall open a tavern."

"Right now?"

"No, Valygar, not right now. I mean sometime. I like the idea. And I think I'd be good at it."

"Lift too many coinpurses, my wildflower, and no patron will wish to discover what honest wares you might have for them."

"Well, aren't you lot all sparkling with support and good wishes?" Imoen grinned. "Thank you all so much."

Haer'Dalis threw her a matching, venomous grin and topped up her wine cup. "And you, my raven? What destiny do you intend to carve out for yourself?"

"Do you know," Kera said, before she could think better of it, "I have no idea. None at all."

"The path is often more intriguing than the place that lies at the end of it."

"Oh, be quiet, tiefling," Imoen protested. "That makes no sense at all unless you enjoy getting lost and having no plans whatsoever."

"And what is exactly so wrong with that, hmm? To be unfettered by anything save your own desires?"

"You sound like one of your own songs."

Kera smiled and leaned her head against the crook of Solaufein's shoulder. Delightfully out of his armour, he said nothing, only hooked his arm tighter around her waist. She sighed against his hair and let her eyes drift nearly shut, half-listening to her sister and the bard.

Much later, when the stars glowed fierce and white above and the weary silence swallowed voices and thoughts, Kera pushed up to her feet. She murmured to Solaufein to go ahead and wait for her in their room. Inside, halfway up the stairs, she caught up with Jaheira and without thinking, she grabbed at the druid's hand.

"Jaheira, wait?"

The druid turned and when she smiled, it did not reach her eyes properly. "You look better."

"You don't," Kera said, softly.

One side of Jaheira's mouth moved. "You're looking after me now, are you, child?"

"I wouldn't dare. But I wouldn't mind sitting with you a while."

Something flickered across Jaheira's face, something very close to wry amusement. "And I wouldn't say no. Come on."

Inside the small room, the druid pulled the curtains wide and waited while the cool night air flooded in. Kera curled herself in the windowseat and accepted the cup of sweet pale wine that Jaheira passed her.

"Really?" she asked, and grinned. "You're not going to tell me I've had enough?"

"Not yet," Jaheira answered, and poured herself a generous amount. "It's Imoen I should've said that to."

"She'll be fine. Haer'Dalis will kick her up the stairs later, I'm sure." Kera stared down into the cup and added, "And we've decided we're still sisters."

Jaheira nodded. Slowly, she replied, "I wondered what you would…I am pleased."

"Really?"

"Yes. There was always…well, I don't know. I'm pleased." Jaheira's dark gaze sharpened. "You've done well, child."

"It wasn't easy."

"I know. It was never going to be easy."

"No. It's strange," she said. "Part of the time I feel so…at ease. It's over. It's done. We're safe. Or as safe as we can be. And then the rest of the time I wonder if it should have been different."

"Time is what you need," Jaheira said.

"Does it help?" Kera swallowed a mouthful of the wine and it seared down her throat. She did not mean Alaundo's words, not really, and the druid had to know. "Does it really make it easier?"

"It makes it easier. Sometimes it helps."

"I'm sorry," Kera said. "I don't think I ever said it properly. I'm so sorry."

"Oh, child." Jaheira shook her head. "You said it enough. And even if you didn't, I knew. Now," she said, a little stronger. "I'm going to pry and you're going to let me."

"Could I stop you?"

"No. Are you both alright?"

"We're," she said, and stopped. "There's distance. I need…we need…I don't know. He means...he means a lot to me."

"Will you tell him?"

She knew what the druid meant. She could hear it in the way Jaheira's voice roughened, and she ached. "I don't know. Drow don't…they don't have words for it. It wouldn't mean anything to him, not in the same way. It's the things I _do_. The things I show him." She grinned ruefully. "I didn't mean that to sound quite so filthy."

"I understand," Jaheira said.

"I simply don't know what telling him something in a language that isn't even his would mean. I told him once that I trusted him. That probably means more."

"To you, as well?"

"Not entirely, because I'm a hopeless romantic, apparently."

Jaheira snorted. "Of course you are."

"When I was in Candlekeep, I used to wonder what would happen in the future. I didn't know it would be this."

"This?"

"Sitting in a desert and wondering if the choice I made was the right one. Some of the time I think it wasn't, and I wonder how different it would have been. The rest of the time, I _know_ it was the right choice, and then I think about the man who I care the most for, and he happens to be a drow." Her teeth clicked against the rim of the cup. "When we were in Ust Natha, I never thought…"

"No?"

"No, and don't you dare tell me you saw it coming."

"I saw nothing of the sort," Jaheira said, and her lips parted in a smile. "Though once we left Suldenessellar it was, well. Rather obvious."

"Oh, gods above." Kera groaned. "I had this conversation with Imoen months ago. We weren't _trying_ to hide it."

"Obviously." Jaheira laid her empty cup against the sill. "Kera, when is it that you'll want to leave?"

"Leave here?" She stared down at her own hands, loosely clasped. "I'm not sure. Soon." Before the druid could speak, she added, "I suppose that means everyone else will have plans."

"Some of us," Jaheira said.

"I know," she said, too quickly. "I knew that's what it would mean. It will just…it feels strange."

"I know." Jaheira plucked the cup from her hands. "Go to bed, child. You're doing no one any favours sitting there like that, and I can catch your sister all by myself when she falls in through the door later."

* * *

Kera's fingers bumped clumsily against the latch as she closed the door. She paused, and even when she blinked, she could see nothing past the white line of the moonlight through the gap in the curtains. Carefully, she unbuckled her boots and stripped off her tunic and leggings and shirt. She fumbled for the edge of the bed and murmured, "Solaufein?"

"I'm here," he answered.

The sheets rustled, and she saw a pale blur that must have been his hair. "I can hardly see you."

"How is it useful, being so blind?" he asked, and she heard the smile in his voice. His hands brushed hers, warm and seeking. He guided her onto the bed beside him, and she turned into the hollow of his shoulder.

"We manage," she said, and kissed the nearest patch of his bare skin. "Solaufein?"

"I am listening."

"I think," she said. He could see her and well enough to notice how her eyes darted, she was sure, but even so, she was suddenly glad of the press of the darkness. "I think when we leave, not everyone's going to stay."

"What do you mean?"

"I know Imoen's always wanted to travel around on her own. I know Valygar prefers Imnesvale. He always said he wanted to go back there when it was all over. Haer'Dalis is a wanderer. He'll want to find some other grand destiny to observe, I'm sure."

"Kera," Solaufein said roughly. His arm tightened around her. "Do not do this. Not again."

"Will you stay?"

"If you want me to."

"What do you want?"

His fingers clamped beneath her chin, lifting her face. "Look at me. I want to stay."

She smiled, shaken and almost afraid. "We'd just be a surfacer and a drow. Together on the surface."

"What would that mean?"

"I don't know," she said. "I would like the chance to find out."

She turned into the circle of his arms and let him draw her down onto the sheets. She rested her cheek against his chest and waited until she could hear the slow, solid thump of his heartbeat.

"Yes," Solaufein said, and combed his fingers through her hair. "I would like that."

"Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"What do I look like?"

"Yourself."

"I mean in the dark."

He laughed. His fingers slipped down the slope of her shoulder. "Still like yourself, surfacer girl. Do you remember what I looked like to you in Ust Natha, in the dark?"

She remembered how he had gazed at her in the tunnels beneath the city, his strange red eyes level and fierce and full of something very like curiosity. "Yes."

"That is what you look like. Yourself, but in the dark."

She smiled and wrapped one hand over the jut of his hip. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense to a drow."

"You would say that."

* * *

Solaufein lounged in the crumpled spill of the sheets and waited. He watched the small motes in the air near the closed window, lit by the bright fall of the early sunlight. Idly, he braided his hair back from his temples and twisted the ends of the short leather ties almost without thinking.

_Wait here_, Kera had told him, and had pulled her clothes on awkwardly and too fast. _Wait here until I come back_, she had said, _because I have something to show you._

The days passed slowly in Amkethran, he thought, slowly and too hot and full of the whirling dust that filled the spaces between the white walls. Still, the tiefling bard spent his evenings singing until his face was flushed and the innkeeper's girls eyed him sidelong. More than a few mornings, Solaufein had wasted time with Valygar and Minsc, sparring with them both, and trading thoughts on speed and weight and weapons.

_It was as if_, he thought, _it was as if they had never been to Bhaal's place. _

Except that they had, and Kera often woke coated in her own sweat and clung to him until her trembling subsided.

The door opened, and he watched as she darted through and kicked it shut with one booted foot. Her hastily-belted tunic hung unevenly on her thin frame and she was plucking at a small leather bag with both hands. "This is for you."

"What is it?"

"If you don't open it, you won't find out, will you?"

He smiled and accepted the small leather bag. He unsnarled the knots and tipped it up and when whorled silver catches and rings spilled onto his palm, he grinned. "For me?"

"For your hair and your ears. I remember we talked about it, and I remember that a long time ago, I said I should find you some more. Some new ones." Her head lifted, and her mouth curved into a slightly uncertain smile. "You know, to appease your vanity?"

He smiled. His hand was full of silver and the sparkling points of tiny red jewels and the fierce shine of obsidian across two of the bands. "These are beautiful."

"Do you know which are which?" Kera shuffled again, and added, "Which for your hair and which not, I mean."

"Kera," he said. "Thank you."

"You like them?"

"I like them," he said. "Why are you nervous?"

"I don't know." She curled herself beside him. "I've just never gotten you anything before. I wanted you to like them."

"I do."

"I bullied Haer'Dalis into helping me. He found the silverworker for me a few days ago. I also wanted them to be, well, a little like what you're used to."

"Kera," he said, and kissed her forehead. "Stop."

She laughed. "Sorry."

"Do not be."

When she leaned against him, he felt some of the tension empty from her shoulders. Tentatively, she kissed the side of his jaw and the softer skin beneath. He did not rush her, did not speak as she brushed his throat and his collarbones. She rested one hand against his chest, pale fingers spread over his scars. With the other she cupped his face and kissed him. He responded softly until her tongue plied his lips apart properly. His hands darted to her belt and when she batted him away, her light, teasing smile made something in his chest twist.

"No," she said, and her smile widened. "Lie down."

"I'm commanded, am I?"

"You are," she murmured, and guided him down onto the sheets.

Slowly – _deliberately _slowly, he was certain – Kera shed her clothes. She straddled his hips, and he watched the play of the sunlight across the lines of her thighs. She kissed him again and lingered at his mouth until her hair spilled across his shoulder and he gasped her name against her damp lips.

She tipped his head to one side, and when she nuzzled his ear, he groaned. "Oh, that is…unfair."

The wet warmth of her tongue followed, and the soft vibration of her laughter. "Is it?"

"_Very_."

"Tough."

She kissed and nipped at the very tip of his ear until he rocked his hips up against hers. When she moved slightly, and her weight shifted against him, he closed his eyes. When she swept his hair aside and turned her attention to his other ear, Solaufein shivered.

"Come here," he said, and sat up. He tugged her into his lap and captured her mouth with his until she twisted against him. He traced over the swell of her hip and laughed breathlessly when she gasped.

"Solaufein," she said, and twisted. "That's…"

"Unfair?"

"_Wonderful_."

Her head lolled against his shoulder. The glide of his fingers between her thighs brought her to a trembling climax. She clung to him for a long moment, her breathing uneven and shallow.

"That," she said, thickly, "Was not how I planned this."

Tenderly, he followed the flush that reddened her face with his mouth. "No?"

"No," Kera echoed, and pushed him back down. She hauled his leggings off and kicked them aside. She smiled and kissed him again, and very gently, she explored him. Slowly and wonderingly, as if she had never before had him stretched out bare beneath her, as if she was learning every inch of him with her mouth and her hands.

When she sank onto him, he stifled a groan. She rose and fell against him, her hands flat on his chest and her hair in wonderful disarray about her shoulders. He caught her hips and tried to guide her faster, and she only scraped her teeth across the long, slender line of his ear again. Desperately, Solaufein tilted her head up, and when he tried to speak, she nodded. He wrapped his arms around her and made it to his feet with her wrapped around him.

Awkwardly, he turned them both around and lowered her onto the very end of the bed. Kera laughed and hooked her legs around his hips and when he drove himself into her, her whole body arched. She clutched at the back of his neck and dragged his head down, and the sudden, sharp pressure of her teeth against his ear had him moaning. His rhythm turned erratic, and the violent shudder of his own climax wracked him.

He said her name, and something else, and when he opened his eyes, he realised she would not understand his words.

"Beautiful," he managed, and kissed her hair, her forehead, her shoulder, her parted lips. "You are beautiful."

"Come here," she said, and drew him down onto the sheets beside her. She curled herself against him, her head pillowed on his arm and one of his legs between both of hers.

"_That_ was a little more how I planned this," she said into the lazy silence.

"Oh?"

"Yes. Imoen said I should just ravish you."

He choked on a sudden laugh. "Did she?"

"Well, I _wanted_ to as well."

"Oh?" He kissed her chin. "I should hope so."

"Solaufein?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry," she said, and her brown eyes darted. "For avoiding you."

"Kera."

"I'm serious. Just because I was sleeping naked next to you doesn't mean that I was _there_."

"I think," he said, hesitantly, "I think I understand."

"I thought I was going to die there."

"I would not have let you."

She turned her head, kissed the inside of his arm. "I know," she said, and her voice shook.

For a long time, she said nothing else, and neither did he, and he traced small circles on the slope of her neck. The sun crawled across the tangled sheets and the dark tumble of Kera's hair where it fell across the crook of Solaufein's elbow. Almost absently, he buried his fingers in the long, loose strands, smoothed and parted them. He found the strange, round curve of her ear and stroked.

"It's not going to change," she told him, and grinned. "No matter how much you touch it."

He laughed. "I'm sorry. I don't…it's strange."

"Yours are strange."

"_Mine_ are useful."

"Really?" Her grin widened, and her fingers ran up the side of his ear. "Because I can reduce you to a quivering mess just by playing with them?"

"I am not so easily overcome."

"You are _such_ a liar," she said, and gasped out a laugh when he rolled himself on top of her. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"If we're to be leaving soon, we'll be sleeping in tents again."

He grabbed at her wrist. "That is true."

"So," Kera said, and twisted out of his grasp. Her wicked, questing fingers knotted in his hair and drew his head down. "I think we should take advantage of having a locked door and a bed."

"I think," he said, and stopped. His thoughts were flying apart and her lips were on the tip of his ear again and his mouth was all full of the scent of her, warm and fierce and yearning. "I think that I agree."


	45. The Sea

_Here it is, the very last chapter. A very very big appreciative thank-you to everyone who's read and supported this story - thank you all so much. _

_**Chapter Forty-Five – The Sea**_

Amkethran fell behind into the grey haze of the morning. The sun rose above swathes of cloud, and the driving glare of the heat made Kera walk with her head down and her cape in heavy folds around her shoulders. She licked at cracked lips and silently reminded herself that the desert would not last, that the northern forests lay somewhere ahead.

"Hey," Imoen said, and elbowed her. She staggered through the sliding sand and added, "You look like I just promised to cook for a month."

Kera spluttered on a laugh that tasted of dust and dry air. "Sorry. Just thinking. I hate the heat."

"It's the sand. It's itchy. Gets in places. Probably worse if there's two of you to worry about."

"I don't need to hear any more," Kera warned.

Her sister giggled and shoved past her. The uneven, bright ends of her hair shone with sweat, and her cape hung lopsidedly off one shoulder. "You're no fun sometimes."

Kera dreamed that night of flames and high stone arches and something jagged and tall that turned to greet her. She jolted out of the dream into a tangle of twisted blankets and Solaufein's arms. He said nothing until she stopped shaking, until she lifted her face from his shoulder.

"What did you see?"

"Bhaal's place," she said. "It was empty, and then the Slayer was there."

"It was," he said, and hesitated. "Just a dream? A real dream?"

She gasped out a laugh. "Yes. I think so. Just a bad dream like normal people have."

She shifted slightly, aware of the damp slide of her skin against his. She could see the snowy spill of his hair and little else and the darkness against her eyes was heavy. "Solaufein?"

"Yes?"

"Come outside with me?"

"Of course."

She found his shirt and let him work it on over her shoulders. The fabric was warm and familiar and smelled of weapon oil and sand and _him_. Blindly, she fumbled her way through the tent flaps and out into the cool night. The fire still fluttered, copper and twining beneath the deep blue arch of the sky. Jaheira sat poised on watch, her profile turned slightly away from the flames and her spear braced against one shoulder. She _had_ to have noticed them, Kera knew, and she saw the druid smile slightly when she led Solaufein past the high rise of the stone.

She turned her face into the welcome press of the air. Out here, the wind sang between the stone and stirred the pale sand between her feet. She tugged Solaufein's shirt down and sat gracelessly, letting her heels sink into the sand. Against her shoulders the stone was blessedly cool, and she sighed.

"Better?" he asked, and curled himself beside her.

"Much better."

He toyed idly with the hem of the shirt and the soft skin of her thigh beneath. "You are taking on my bad habits, it seems."

"Bad habits?"

"You're not wearing much at all," he said, and smiled.

"You must be a terrible influence." She kissed the tip of his nose. "And at least I can see you better out here."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and don't smirk at me, wicked drow."

"Wicked?" Teasingly, he slid a hand up the inside of her thigh until she shivered.

"Very," she said, and settled herself against his bare shoulder. "You're beautiful in this light."

His hand tightened against her leg. "I like the nights here," he said. "And not just because of what you've just told me."

"Your eyes still hurt?"

"Sometimes. During the day, in the heat. It will be better when we leave the desert. I do not think that drow are meant for deserts."

She smiled. Absently, she traced the line of his collarbone. "Do you remember when we talked about how old you are?"

"Yes."

"I was thinking," she said, and stopped. Awkwardly, she finished, "Bhaal's place. If I'd taken it, and looked after it properly, maybe I could've…"

"What?"

"Done something. Something so I'd live longer."

His fingers stilled against her skin. "What do you mean?"

"You're a drow. I'm not. You're going to be around a lot longer."

"Kera," he said.

"I could have."

"You would not have wanted to," he said. "If you were there in the place of a god, what thoughts would you have had for me?"

"That's not," she said, and scowled. "You can't know that."

"Neither can you."

"No, but I might have."

"Kera," Solaufein said. "Do you truly want me to answer that so that you can contradict me again?"

"Maybe," she muttered. "No. You're right. I know that. Of course I know that. I just…"

"Yes." Very gently, he brushed his thumb beneath her chin. "I know."

For a long, silent moment, she leaned into the cradling support of his palm. His other hand slipped up her thigh again, plucking and pulling at the hem of the shirt.

"I think I prefer you in my shirt."

"And I think I prefer _you_ out of it," she said, and ran both hands over the solid, warm lines of his chest. Beneath the pale spread of her fingers, he was unbroken ebony, and he shivered delightfully when she touched the soft skin just below his ribs. She drew him down beside her, and together they lay twined on the cool sand while the night wore away.

* * *

The days rolled into weeks, and the road wound slowly and peacefully north. The shadows around Kera's eyes softened, and some nights she slept well and deeply. Others she jerked awake, her skin clammy with cold sweat, and Solaufein coaxed her back onto the sheets.

Beneath the cloud-scudded sky, the road twisted between low, rocky hills and into the forest. She spent an indolent twilight watching the fire as it danced, half aware of Solaufein and Valygar as they sparred along the length of the small clearing. Beside her, Minsc ran a much-mended square of cloth along the haft of his mace. "You are looking better," he said quietly.

"I feel better," she answered, honestly. "I don't…well, it's strange, still."

"Of course it is strange. We went to a very strange place." His dark eyes stayed trained on the mace. "Places change us, after we leave them."

"Yes, they do."

"The Ice Dragon Lodge," he said. "Once I worried that they would never have me back, me and Boo."

"Why not?"

"My witch," he said, and shrugged. "We failed."

"No, Minsc. You didn't. If anything, _I_ did, because Irenicus was after me and Imoen. No one else."

"No, little Kera." He smiled, slowly, and he touched the back of her wrist. "Not your fault. Minsc remembers his witch, and it hurts. But it is not your fault."

"I hope…one day, maybe, would the Ice Dragon Lodge take you back?"

"Perhaps. We shall see, you and Boo and I. We shall see. Long way to Rashemen, though, yes?"

"Very long," she said, and knew what he was going to say. She could see it in his face, in the uncertain crease between his eyebrows. "It's alright, Minsc. I know you and Valygar are going to leave."

He smiled, slowly, and his gaze lifted. "You have spoken about it?"

"Yes," she said, and ached. "I'm going to miss you, you know that?"

Minsc smiled. "We remember you, that day in Nashkel. Do you remember?"

"I remember."

"You were so young, both of you, so young and pretending not to be."

She laughed. "That obvious, were we?"

"Yes," he told her sternly. "Both of you so little and Jaheira watching over you, and Khalid watching over Jaheira." His face softened, and he added, "We think you have done well, Boo and I. Both of you have done well."

"Sometimes I don't feel like I have."

"You are here, and you have your Solaufein with you, and you did not take that place to be yours."

"No, I didn't."

"It was not yours," the ranger said.

"No," she said, whisper-quiet. She raised her head and tremulously, she met his smile. "No, it wasn't."

* * *

Imoen sat cross-legged on the flat boulder and watched sidelong as Haer'Dalis ran his whetstone down one unsheathed sword. Methodically and intently, he followed the vicious line of the blade.

"Haer'Dalis?"

"Mmm, little one?"

Imoen stared down at her own hands, laced in her lap. The chill dawn air filled her mouth when she breathed, and she could hear the swaying motion of the branches above. "Do you miss her?"

"Lady Luck? How could I? We have been most blessed by her gifts lately, do you not think?"

Imoen grinned. "I meant Raelis."

"Ah. Miss Raelis. Yes." He stopped, sliding the sword into its scabbard. He perched on the boulder beside her, the sword flat across his legs. "She carries my heart with her, and maybe someday I will find her again and we will speak of it."

"Not literally, I hope?"

"No," he said, and laughed.

"Good. These past months I've learned not to assume that that kind of thing is a metaphor." Her fingertips drummed against the stone, and she muttered, "Haer'Dalis?"

"Yes?"

"Want some company? When you go back to Athkatla? I mean, I never really got to see all that much of the place."

"Company?"

"I still to want to open that tavern. You know that taverns do so much better when there's someone with a pretty face and a prettier voice cheering them up with songs."

"Indeed they do," he responded, and grinned wickedly. "And yet I am an actor, my wildflower, as much as I am a singer. What if I wish to charm the stages of the City of Coin, rather than sing for my supper in a taproom full of drunk merchants?"

"You could do both, I'm sure." She tugged at her bootlaces, made herself stop, and added, "I can watch my girls pouring the ale and you can sing at the hearth."

"Oh? Sing? Anything else?"

"Well, you can charm my girls into bed every other day, if you want."

"And yourself, my wildflower?"

"Oh, well, I'll be available on their off days, if you want," she said, and smirked.

"Indeed?" he said, and his dark eyes gleamed. "Is that a wager or a promise, little one?"

Her planned retort died on her tongue. She swallowed, and said, "It's a suggestion."

"Then," Haer'Dalis said, and his voice softened. He moved, and his touch lingered against the back of her wrist. "Then it is a suggestion that I will consider most carefully."

* * *

Small streams twined between the wet curves of grey rocks, and when Imoen hopped between two of them, her heel slipped and she swore.

"Elegant," Kera murmured, and followed her cautiously. She paused and knelt, slipped one hand beneath the cold, rushing water. "Imoen?"

"My _toes_ are wet. Yes?"

"You're really going to do this?"

"What? Wander around aimlessly until I get bored of being stuck with Haer'Dalis?"

"Yes," Kera said.

"You can't possibly be worried about my virtue, can you?"

"Not since the time I walked out of my tent and found you and Coran doing something _very_ interesting up against a tree, no."

"Oh, _Kera_." Imoen scooped up a handful of water and flung it at her. "That was years ago."

"Two years."

"Two and a half."

Kera cleared the space between the next two rocks and crouched again. She watched the glassy play of the water over stone and gravel and green weeds. "What are you going to do?"

"Try and stay out of trouble, and when that doesn't work, Haer'Dalis can dazzle people for me."

Kera grinned. "Sounds like fun. Sure you'll be alright?"

"Course I will. Kera?"

"Yes?"

"I'm going to miss you." Imoen wobbled her way across the next gap and caught her shoulder. "You'll come find me again sometime, won't you?"

"Not if it means going to some asylum out on an island in the middle of the ocean, I won't."

"Oh, you're so sweet. Well, even if you don't, I'll come and track you down. And by then, I'll want to know if I've got myself a drow brother-in-law or not, alright?"

Kera coughed. "I'm sorry?"

"Oh, please. The way you two drool over each other, he's not going anywhere fast and neither are you."

Kera laughed helplessly. When she sat properly, and swung her feet into the stream, the water seethed around her ankles.

"You're so strange," Imoen told her, and nonetheless joined her. "Did Jaheira talk to you?"

"Yes. She said she's going to try and remember how to be a proper druid again," Kera said, and smiled slightly. Painfully, she added, "She'll go with Minsc and Valygar."

"Kera?"

"Mmm?"

"Look after each other," Imoen said, and her voice thickened. "You and Solaufein."

She nudged her sister's shoulder. "You too."

* * *

Nine days later, under the grey mist of the morning's rain, Kera sat with Solaufein poised between her knees. She toyed with his hair, winding the strands on one side into a thick, uneven braid.

"My raven," Haer'Dalis said gently. "May we share a moment or two of words?"

She looked up and saw that the bard's face was a little hesitant, his smile a little shadowed. "Of course. And don't look at me like I'm about to turn into a dragon and eat you. I know what you're going to say."

His expression relaxed, and he retorted, "A dragon? So simple a challenge, my dear, do you not think?"

She patted the end of the plait and Solaufein shifted away from her.

"What have you done to me?"

"You look dazzling, I assure you, my darkling. Uneven, perhaps, but dazzling nonetheless." Haer'Dalis sat, sweeping his hands through the dew-flecked grass. "I will be leaving you today, my raven."

"I know," she said, and a strange, aching pang ran through her. "And you'll be stealing my sister, as well."

"Yes. I thought that since everyone else seems to be bandying the same ideas about, it might be best if we depart first. This way I will have as large an audience as I am likely to have, after all."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know. North first. Maybe to Athkatla. There is, after all, a theatre there that requires the glittering presence of an actor of my caliber. And your sister has some strange and mad plan to serve ale to the deserving while I ply my admittedly arresting skills keeping her patrons interested."

She laughed. "And when you get bored of that?"

His grin turned madcap, and he said, "Oh, I am certain that in all this wide world there are stories to be heard and songs to be sung and adventures to be had."

When the sun crept higher above the trees, the tiefling and her sister bade farewell to them all in turn. He hugged Jaheira, and she let him. Valygar smiled and clasped his shoulder, and Minsc nodded and ruffled the tiefling's long hair. Solaufein escaped with the tiefling's arm around his waist and a promise to keep Kera safe.

Imoen tackled both rangers and would not let Valygar go until he returned her hug with suitable enthusiasm. Solaufein endured the same, and Kera saw his wry smile when her sister let him go. Imoen held Jaheira close, very close, her head bowed against the druid's shoulders and her eyes too bright.

"My raven," Haer'Dalis said, roughly. For a long moment, he simply looked down at her thoughtfully. "I am both impressed and rather put out that you came through your destiny still alive and without letting the entire south drown in the blood of your father."

"That's a compliment, is it?"

"Indeed. The very best, in fact." The bard cupped her face between his hands, and very gently, he kissed her forehead, and both her eyelids. "Perchance some time we might stumble upon each other again."

"Yes," she said thickly. "Take care of yourself, Haer'Dalis."

"If I did _that_, I would not entirely be myself."

She slipped her arms around his wiry shoulders and tugged him close. "Then take care of my sister if nothing else. You have to have the last word, don't you?"

"But of course I do." As gently, he pulled away, and the jewels wound through his hair brushed against her neck. "Be well, Kera."

She turned, aware of the heavy, aching knot in her chest. Imoen caught her wrist, and then her sister was in her arms, and she was saying something, something silly about some promised reunion and lots of wine.

"Imoen," Kera said, half-laughing. "Stop talking and get out of here before you change your mind."

She watched them go, her sister jittery and moving too quickly and trying to keep up with the bard's lazy, longer strides. Imoen kept turning, smiling over one shoulder and then the other. Haer'Dalis said something, lost to the distance and the wind, and she grinned and clipped his arm roughly.

Kera smiled. When Solaufein wrapped both arms around her, she held onto his crossed wrists and watched them go until the deep green shadows of the forest swallowed them both.

* * *

Four weeks crawled past, slow and empty of trouble. They chose the narrow path through the tangled forest, away from the noise of the merchant roads. Valygar scouted ahead, or Solaufein did, or they went together, stepping silently between gnarled tree roots and past high stands of ferns. Kera walked often between Jaheira and Minsc, and when the strange, twisting weight inside her eased a little, she found herself talking.

Small things, old memories, the high walls of Candlekeep and the crowded roofs of Beregost and the clamour of the fair at Nashkel, and the words fell from her lips.

"Would you ever go back?" Jaheira asked.

"To Candlekeep? Probably not. It would be too different. I like how I remember it, even if I'm not quite remembering it right."

"Yes," Jaheira said. "I know what you mean."

"You'll be alright?" Kera asked, and suddenly wondered if she should have stayed silent.

The druid paused, her dark eyes on the rippling trees. "Yes," she said, eventually. "I'll go with Minsc and Valygar as far as Trademeet, and they'll go on north from there."

"So," Kera said, and somehow kept her tone light. "If we want to come and bother you sometime, you'll be at the grove there?"

"Yes, though if the only reason you come is to do with an ancient prophecy, I may make myself unavailable."

"Would I?"

"When haven't you?" Jaheira smiled, and it reached her eyes. "Life is strange, child, even when not at the whim of Alaundo's words. And besides, it may be that I come to bother you sometime."

* * *

The path curved west past the high, spreading arch of three ash trees. Between Kera's shoulders, her packs was heavy, and she stared at the whorled sweep of the bark. She heard soft footsteps behind her, and Solaufein's hand brushed the side of her face. She turned into his arms, and he murmured, "Are you alright?"

"Feels odd."

"Odd?"

"_We're_ the ones leaving," she said, and shrugged. "I knew we would. I mean, they're all going north and we're not, and I know that. It just…"

"Yes," he said, and arranged the fall of her braid across her shoulder. "I have never done something like this. Our farewells are those of triumph over a fallen enemy, or a moment of respect for a past ally. They are not like this."

"You don't mind?"

He smiled, lopsided and wry. "No, I do not mind."

"You're ready?" Jaheira said, from somewhere behind the drow. "You've got everything?"

"I think so," Kera replied. She turned, and found that she could not keep her hands still. She tried looping them around her belt, failed, and twisted her fingers together instead.

"Spare weapons and those rations we made up for you?"

"Yes."

"Good." Jaheira nodded briskly, and added, "Stay off the merchant roads while you're on your own. If you find yourselves with a caravan, get yourselves paid straight away. There's little concern for drow on the surface, and with there being only the pair of you, well. Be careful."

"Jaheira," Kera said, and pulled the druid into a clumsy embrace. "We'll be fine."

"Fine had better be good enough to keep you breathing, child. I've wasted too much of my life on you to see you make some stupid mistake too soon." Jaheira caught her chin between strong fingers. "Keep yourself safe."

She hugged Minsc then, and the ranger lifted her onto her toes, his arms circling her waist. He let her hold Boo, nestled and warm against her palm. She stroked the tiny creature's head, and murmured, "Look after him for me, won't you?"

"Boo is not to be doubted," Minsc said firmly.

She managed to smile, shakily, and turned her attention to Valygar, all practiced poise and level dark eyes. "Thank you," she said, simply.

"You triumphed," he said, and the corners of his mouth moved. "My sword and my patience may have helped."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders. She remembered his coiled wariness during those early days, and the terrible apprehension in his eyes when she had explained her heritage. "Look after Jaheira, won't you?"

"You're joking, surely?" His smile turned into a grin, and he added, "She'll be the one looking after us, you know that."

"I know that," she said.

She waited while Minsc clasped the drow's hand, and so did Valygar, and Jaheira pinned him with a thoughtful look.

"Strange," the druid said, and her tone softened the word. "Strange the things that happen."

"Yes," Solaufein said, and when he squeezed her shoulder, she only nodded.

"I never thought," Jaheira said, and shrugged. "Now, take yourselves off, both of you, before you waste the day."

* * *

The path wove through the forest, curving up past low clusters of rocks and turning damp and churned beside the rushing grey river. The first nights passed strangely, the glades they chose tiny and hidden away behind stands of silver birch or else masked by the rain-beaten shape of low crags. Too used to the small noises of tents rippling in the wind or the fire snapping or the footfalls of whomever had drawn the late watch, Kera found that sleep eluded her. She spent the evenings twined around Solaufein as the sun sank away, his sweat cooling on her bare skin, and her face against his chest. Moonrise usually found her stubbornly outside while he sat on watch. More than once, he lifted her half-asleep across his lap and sat with her, his fingers playing slowly down the slope of her shoulder. On the seventh night, they did not bother with the tent at all, and Kera woke to a pale dawn, her hair all soaked with dew and her head against Solaufein's leg.

Their way wound north and west, and eventually the nights turned cold enough that she had to ruefully tug her clothes back on properly after wasting the evening tangled with him.

She watched the sparks billow up from the fire and curled herself properly into the crook of his shoulder. "When I was very young, I once cornered Gorion in his study. I asked him in only the way a very little girl can what he thought I would be when I grew a bit taller."

"What did he say?"

"He said that when I grew a bit taller I'd likely be able to steal apples from the orchard just as well as Imoen already could. Then he looked very strange and said he didn't know what I would be after that, but that he hoped it would be something I wanted."

Solaufein's arm tightened around her. "He must have known such a choice would lie before you."

"I suppose," she said. "I'm sorry. I feel like I've barely spoken all day, and then this is all I can talk about."

"Do not be sorry." Slowly, he added, "Much of your life was spent without me. I enjoy hearing these things."

"Good," she said, and nudged him gently. "Even more of yours was spent without me, you know."

"I know." He wreathed his fingers through hers. "Do you really enjoy hearing of scouting in the Underdark? Hiding from elves on the surface? Lying to priestesses in the temple?"

"Of course not. But these things happened to you, and I want to know of them," she said, and lifted his hand to her mouth. Slowly, she kissed his knuckles, and the back of his hand, wiry and ebony and scarred. "But we have spent these past months worried about Melissan and Bhaal and Alaundo's words. Now we have time for everything else."

His lips moved into a challenging smile. "Everything?"

"It's cold," she said, and grinned.

"It's not that cold," he told her, and when he kissed her, she groaned and pulled him closer.

His hands on her were tender, and somehow she ended up on the ground again, her thighs open around his hips, yielding to him and the heat in his mouth. Afterwards, he laughed gently at her when she purloined his shirt again, and they lasted out the night pressed together beneath her cape while the fire burned down.

Four meandering weeks took them through the forest. The trees fell away, and the terrain turned rolling and dotted with scrub and dense patches of tough, wind-rattled grass. Out here the wind screamed, and it was heavy with the scent of the sea. Matching Solaufein's pace, Kera turned her face into the wind. Her hair lashed at her eyes, and she scraped it aside and breathed in slowly and steadily. Three days later, she led him away from the path and to where high stones stood up against the pewter sky. They stepped between them, and Kera's boots sank into dry, wind-whipped sand.

She stumbled down the uneven slope until Solaufein caught her around the waist and pulled her against him. Laughing, she tumbled onto the sand and dragged him down behind her. She shrugged off her pack and shoved his knees apart, leaned back against his chest. Kera looked at the tumbling whitecaps until the raw wind stung her eyes and her vision blurred.

"I remember this," he said into her ear. "You called it the sea. In Athkatla, it tasted strange."

She turned her head so that her cheek slid along his. "It tastes strange everywhere."

"You watched me, that day. I remember it."

"Yes, I did. What did you think?"

"Then, I wondered why you did. I thought that perhaps you were curious. That I was curious to you."

"And after?"

He cradled the back of her head with one hand. "After, I wanted to know why, since I had begun to watch you in much the same way. I wanted to know why you were so curious as to how different I looked in daylight."

She laughed. "And here I thought I had been careful and obtuse."

"You were," he said, and his lips moved in a smile against her throat.

For a long moment they stayed wordless, and the wind flicked his white hair into her face and pulled at her cuff laces. She listened to the sigh of the water against the sand and the sound of the drow's fingers against her shoulders.

"Kera?"

"Yes?"

He gathered her properly against him, turning her into the sheltering warmth of his chest so that her chin was on his shoulder, her hands knotted at the small of his back.

"I like this," Solaufein said.

"So do I," she said, and she breathed in the scent of the sea.


End file.
